Her Majesty, the Ice Queen
by Mysterious Loser
Summary: Maybe it was the cold or maybe it was the bitter past that was affecting Esther's mood. Regardless of which, she couldn't stop herself from wanting a blizzard bloom, to ice skate, and to reawaken the memories of her beloved mother, the ice queen. - Takes place during the party's first visit to Yule. SPOILERS for those who haven't yet reached this point. Eventual Esther/Swaine -
1. From Desert Princess to Ice Queen

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Everything belongs to Level 5 and Studio Ghibli.

**A/N: **No doubt, the title is misleading. XD I apologize in advance for that.

Fine, fine, I know I said I wasn't going to be writing anymore Ni No Kuni, but people asked and I felt the urge to write once more. It's sort of a sequel to "To Steal a Smile" (minus the fact that Swaine has never kissed Esther), because it deals with similar themes and ideas from the previous fic. I read in a few places where people have been annoyed with the surplus of Esther/Swaine stories and lack of real adventure stories. I can agree with that (although I love me a good adventure/romance story. Having the cake and eating it, too, is the writer and reader's ultimate dream after all XD), but I won't be doing any multi-chapter fics here, haha. I'm currently in the process of writing several multi-chapter stories elsewhere, as well as working on a graphic novel, my own novel, and a visual novel. So, I'm afraid, it's just this simple Esther/Swaine story...again. XD Really, I'm sorry (not that much, though. I can't apologize for the plot bunnies in my head). Which also means...**BIG FAT, FATTY, FAT, FAT WAFFY FAT ALERT. **Also known as "warm and fuzzy feelings with unnecessary fluff that will be sure to ensue endless vomiting." Yay!

Also, I realize that Horace says that the Blizzard Blooms grow all over the region, but it wasn't easy foraging those damn things in the game, and where the hell do the monsters keep them anyway? In their second pockets? Anywho, for the purpose of the story, I made them a little harder to obtain. If that bugs anyone, well...so-rr-y?

I also have no clue of anything about Esther's mother, and Myrtle's mother doesn't appear for very long. I have no idea if my information is accurate (that was Ni No Kuni's job to tell us but it didn't, haha), so don't hold me to anything.

And, lastly, this is a thirty-three page story chopped into three chapters because I doubt anyone (including me) has the attention span to read thirty-three full pages. I'll update every few days though. I promise.

I hope you enjoy it, and please be kind. I'm still shaky writing Ni No Kuni with a lack of character development. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but flames will be flung on catapults to make fireworks :-D

**\/\/\/**

**Her Majesty, the Ice Queen**

**Chapter One**

**From Desert Princess to Ice Queen**

**\/\/\/**

"I think it's up ahead."

Esther couldn't quite hear Oliver from her position behind him. He said something more, but the wind slapped her ears and she cringed.

Cupping her hands around the swelling flesh, she called out, "What?" before becoming aware that trying to listen with her ears covered wouldn't work well.

She removed her hands for just a moment and Oliver glanced over his shoulder to repeat, "Yule. It's just up ahead. I think I can see the lights."

And, for a moment, she thought she could too. Or maybe she was hallucinating as the result of being cold and tired.

All Esther knew was that she was a desert girl, not a snow girl, and had not even the _smallest_ inclination of what she was up against upon coming here. Painted pictures of cotton snow appeared warmer when viewing them while in the desert, and those who played in it did not seem cold or uncomfortable.

She felt lied to. The snow wasn't white, fluffy cotton, nor was it comfortable. Her body was numb. Her reddening fingers itched and were puffy. Esther's cheeks burned and her ears were in the same state, if not a more sensitive one. The worst part was when she had to hide herself every few minutes in the back to wipe her nose when sniffling didn't work.

The snowflakes fell far in between each other and the wind picked up speed. Upon rejection from entering the Glittering Grotto, the group had been instructed to descend south to the little village of Yule which was nestled into the crook of the mountain. Calling Tengri wouldn't have been a problem, but the clouds were settling in, making it near impossible to see. It would be difficult for the dragon to find them at this point. The village wasn't too far away, anyhow—a few miles or so—which wasn't bad until the wind swirled up snow from the ground and attacked Esther. The white flurries hadn't relented since their departure from the Glittering Grotto.

Swaine fell back a few steps, tugging up on the collar of his green jacket to create a nice barrier against the snow and wind. But Esther saw that he was unsuccessful as he continued to fumble with it. He adjusted the strap on his bag, reminded her that she needed to check and make sure her belongings were dry. Oliver pulled the red cape over his head like a hood and Drippy took shelter within. She could see his small lantern waving back and forth with each step the boy took, which was slow and robotic. A bag was looped over the boy's back, and it tapped against his side as he walked.

"If we get up under those ledges, it will ward off the wind," she heard Swaine say.

Esther stopped a moment to wipe her running nose against her arm and glance up. There was a ledge not far off, and Yule sat close after. The snowfall looked lighter above the village, as though someone or something had warded off the brutality of the storm.

"There's thinking." Drippy peeked out from under Oliver's cape. "Get a move on, mun." The fairy dropped the cape back over himself like a curtain.

The idea of finding shelter gave Esther the motivation to trudge forward again, faster this time. She ignored the cold and wet feeling in her feet. The snow had soaked through her shoes and would take hours to dry. There was a small bit of warmth flowing in the soles of her feet, but she was almost positive that it was the frostbite settling in.

Then again, Esther had never had frostbite before.

Even the stories from her mother and the paintings of Yule couldn't compare to this.

The underbelly of the ledge kept most of the wind out, just as Swaine said it would, but the snow was still deep, and the moisture kept well. The thief stopped once and pointed heavenwards, to which Esther's gaze followed.

A small gasp escaped her mouth. She was cold, and tired, and staring at the most beautiful thing she had seen in a long time.

There, living on the ceiling of the ledge, were rows of crystal teeth. Some were bigger than others, some were leaking, and a drop fell on Esther's shoulder. She glanced down at it and looked back up.

"Icicles," Swaine said. "Gorgeous ain't it? You'll only see them here in the snow plains, or if you know how to use that ice spell of yours properly." His last words fell on Oliver, who was too busy staring at the formations above to notice.

Drippy came out from under the cape, holding the folds of the fabric over his head with his stumpy arms.

"Ei'nt it a beaut'?" he asked to no one in particular. "Been a lot of places, I 'ave. Even here. But never seen nothing like this, I tell ya."

_Wish you would've warned us it was going to be __**this**__ cold,_ Esther shuddered.

But she thought better than to pick a fight with the fairy. She wouldn't win, and it wouldn't change their situation now. She kept her attention on the biggest icicle up top. It was in the center of some smaller ones that were bunched around it. The shine made the ice sparkle like glass—almost like a sunburst. Or a flower.

Like the famous blizzard bloom of Yule.

She had always wanted a blizzard bloom ever since she saw the paintings as a child in her picture books. They were ice flowers that could be harvested only in the Winter Isles, and Yule's villagers were adept at obtaining them. They never melted or changed shape, and no two were ever alike. The icicles she saw now reminded her of those flowers and her chest became light as a thought formed in her mind.

_I wonder if I can find some in Yule. I wonder how much they'll charge for one. I could bring it back and show my father. __Then again...I wonder what his reaction would be._

"All right." Swaine tapped her on the shoulder. "Best be moving on now. Wouldn't want to freeze before we made it into the village."

"R-Right." She took a last gaze of the icicles with her before trotting in behind her companions.

Snow fluffed up around her feet once more, but she left with the encouraging thought that she was a moment closer to finding a genuine blizzard bloom, just like in the paintings.

Just like mother talked about.

Leaving the safety of the ledge wasn't as terrible as when the party had first come in. Tromping downward into the valley left the mountain peaks to catch the brunt of the wind and traveling snow. Both Oliver and Swaine's hair were matted across the sides of their faces, droplets of water trailing down their foreheads and cheeks while some just fell away into their dampened clothes. Esther reached up to grab her own hair and tugged on the floppy braid that had come loose around the bottom. She swept her bangs back with a cold hand and they flattened on top of her head. When she tried to brush them forward, they popped up and held that way.

Swaine glanced over at her just as she had pushed her bangs straight up like two antennae on her head. He burst out laughing, causing her to puff out her cheeks in disapproval, and Oliver turned to see what the commotion was about.

"You look like you've been flipping electrocuted," the thief guffawed, holding his sides with his hands. They were red at the knuckles and tips from the cold. Even his cheeks had gone rosy.

"Speak for _yourself._" She gestured to the brown, wet curls that framed his face.

Oliver tried to refrain himself from chuckling, but Drippy wasn't so good at hiding his laughter. Swaine frowned as he flicked the hair away, but it landed back in the same place.

"What are _you_ sneering at?" the thief pointed at Oliver's own attire, which clung to his tiny body.

His hair was ruffled from having the cape hung over him, though his bangs stuck to his forehead. Drippy wrapped himself in the slack of the fabric that was left and Esther thought he looked like a frumpy old woman clothed in bright colored robes.

"Um," Oliver kept the cape close to his head to prevent further embarrassment, though was failing at it, "Yule is over the hill."

"Right." Drippy nudged the side of the boy's face with his small form, "Let's get on with it, shall we?"

The oldest man made off without another word and Esther pushed her bangs down around her face. She didn't care if they looked hilarious or not. It was better than having antennae.

Bright lights reflected against the snow and Esther peered down the hillside. Spots of yellow were speckled across the village, the majority being mounted on large, well-crafted igloos. Villagers disappeared through icy doors while others emerged outside. As the group came closer to the village gates, Esther was able to make out the snowman shape of the igloos. Their noses were made from sticks that hung small banners. She smiled, even through her chattering teeth. Some of the inhabitants were the same white snow folk that they had encountered at Glittering Grotto.

_They're like little snowmen themselves. I remember my mother and father calling them tomtes, the actual natives of Yule. It's wonderful that the tomtes and humans can live together in peace. _

"Wow," she marveled. "This place is amazing."

"Yeah..." Oliver dropped the cape around his head and Drippy snatched it up around his tiny body. The boy spun in a slow circle. "Do you see the lights coming through the snow in the igloos? It's incredible."

He pointed to one that reflected against a tree hugged with snow. The light made it glitter like silver. Esther wrapped her arms around her waist, but jumped up and down with delight. The thought of actually seeing a blizzard bloom enthralled her, as did the possibility of owning one. Her mother owned one a long time ago, but it was lost now.

"And those big fluffy creatures," she added. "Like the one we met up top. I've never seen them before but I think my father called them...to-mt-es...? Either way, they look so warm and cuddly."

"Yeah," Drippy nodded. "Those are tomtes. Youell only see them here in the Winter Isles. Everywhere else is too warm for them, see?"

A small, chubby tomte walked in front of Oliver at that moment. He stopped, blinked at them with beady eyes, then continued around the backside of an igloo.

"They're so cute," the boy shivered, but shared the same enthusiasm as Esther.

Swaine, however, did not. He wrapped himself within his arms and his teeth were clinking together loud enough that Esther could hear, even though she was standing behind him.

"Yeah, yeah, they're lovely," he said in a snippy voice. "Could we talk about how nice Yule is _inside, _you think? I think I can feel my blood turning to ice."

Drippy wrapped himself tighter within Oliver's cape and the boy pressed his arms against his chest in an effort to stay warm.

"I'll second that, mun. Freezing my bits off, I am. Brr! It's chilly."

Esther couldn't feel her arms anymore, and hugging her body seemed futile. While inside sounded wonderful, she wished she had a coat or something comfortable so that she could go exploring. Touching the snow had been what she always wanted to do, but after a while it was too cold without gloves. Still, there were plenty of other things to do in the snow that she dreamed of, ever since she was a little girl. There were snowball fights, ice skating, riding down hills on wooden sleds, and making shapes in the snow. In those same pictures Esther saw were children making miniature sized igloos and snowmen by rolling balls of snow and digging out tunnels.

Her mother promised they would do all those things some day.

Oliver suggested trying to find information about the magic stones while Drippy thought to find the village elder like the tomte guarding Glittering Grotto had suggested. Swaine rolled his eyes and complained under his breath, causing Esther to scowl at him from behind.

He was always whining and never had anything positive to say. They had traveled together long enough that she knew what to expect from him, which wasn't much, and what _not_ to expect, which was a lot more.

They began on a trek through the village, garnering confused stares from both the tomtes and villagers alike. Esther knew it was because their casual wear wasn't appropriate for the climate and they wore the expressions well.

She kept in the back, that way she could still eye everyone and everything in the village. The desert girl wondered what it would be like to live in a place like this, to be able to survive, and to prosper. She had always been accustomed to the heat, and scrounging for shade when it got too hot. Here, it was the other way around, where the natives always had to wear something warm.

Her mother was born and raised in Yule. Esther had found her winter coat years ago, and her mother presented her with pictures of a younger, happier self. She looked just like an ice queen, robed in a white, furry coat that spun down her legs like a gown. Mother's blonde hair was longer then, but kept in a braided bun so that it wouldn't droop from the snow. Her eyes were bluer than any blizzard bloom Esther saw in the picture books, and, one day, she swore that she would be an ice queen just like Mother.

But her mother had other plans. She hated the cold, despite the smiles she wore in those pictures. She dreamed of the sun, and beaches, and dipping her toes into the water on the coast. When Father came into her life, Esther imagined him like a knight riding in to save her mother. How beautiful things must've been back then. Mother could have the sun, and the sand, and the water and leave the cold behind.

Esther was born in the desert sun, and deduced that she wouldn't like to live in the snow after all, but it would be fun to visit—maybe in something warmer, of course. It wasn't like Castaway Cove, where the weather was pleasant all year long and swimming was always an option. It was nicer than the desert, despite having lived there her entire life.

She thought her mother would be living somewhere close to there by now, having loved the coast. Esther had been hopeful that she might see her along their travels. She was living _somewhere,_ after all. Drippy assured her that a living creature could not exist in one world without the other. She didn't want to worry Oliver with her troubles, so when she saw Myrtle's mother, Betty, back in the boy's world, she said nothing.

_But she's just like I remember her. Beautiful like an ice queen, and transformed into a sand princess. Her hair was shorter, and she dressed differently, but she was so graceful even still. Father must've been different back then._

It wasn't until after Shadar arrived, stole Esther's heart and broke her father's spirit did her mother leave. Esther couldn't quite remember it because she didn't care then.

Being brokenhearted meant being a broken person. Nothing mattered.

Maybe her mother was broken, too. Why else could she leave them behind?

She shook the thoughts from her head, not wanting to spend them on her mother anymore. It was hard to even think about Myrtle, her soul mate, and the one who had the life Esther wanted. A father _and _a mother—Rusty and Betty—and Myrtle had friends and a job at the grocery store.

Esther had Oliver and Drippy. There was noway she'd ever consider Swaine a _friend._ It was hard even calling him a companion what with how they fought each day. He hated Esther, she was sure of it. But it was ironic that the scruffy haired thief had taken a liking to her Motorville soul mate, wishing he could do _something_ to comfort her while her friend, Denny, remained brokenhearted.

_A downright __**womanizer. **__That's what __**he**__ is._

Myrtle, Khulan...was there _no one_ safe from him?

_And doesn't he know that Myrtle is my soul mate? He antagonizes me and makes cruel remarks to me, but finds her attractive. He's blind as well._

It depressed her. How could sweet, noble Gascon and wretched, whiny Swaine be one and the same person? She had been so fond of the older prince. His loyalty for his brother was admirable, and Esther wished she had a sibling she could have the same relationship with. Despite her envy of Myrtle, she wanted her soul mate to see her. That way, at least she'd have someone close. That way, she could meet her mother again.

Then a question popped into her head: who was _Swaine's_ soul mate? Was he at least _tolerable _where _this_ Swaine had failed? Maybe he was like Gascon, handsome and strong. Marcassin would still be his brother, the two of them sharing a bond as they did. Gascon would still be protecting Marcassin in the other world from things like cars—scary things that even Esther didn't recognize when traveling to Oliver's world. He assured her it was nothing terrible and cars were, in fact, a marvelous invention.

Esther wasn't sure she believed it.

Maybe the Motorville Gascon drove a car too. It was unfortunate that the Motorville civilians couldn't see their counterparts. She wondered if Gascon would have taken her for a drive if he _could _see her.

_Of course he would. He's not like __**Swaine.**_

She stopped walking.

The sad truth was...he _was_ Swaine, even down to the deep, violet eyes and cocky smile.

And he was pushy, never giving a second thought to anyone else.

_He calls me nosy, makes fun of me and my dreams, and taunts me. So what if the idea of love fascinates me? Kublai and Khulan...Prince Ali and Princess Yasmina...Even watching my parents' soul mates and how deeply in love they are. It's beautiful, yet, all Swaine does is mock me and my feelings. _

"That's _it, _I've _had _it, I'm _done_ walking." The thief disengaged himself from the group and pushed through the nearest ice door and disappeared.

Esther stepped in next to Oliver, who was confused as to what had just transpired.

"What in the bloomin' blazes?" Drippy poked his head out from under the cape, his lantern swinging about.

"He just..._took_ off." Esther narrowed her eyes and stared up at the igloo.

The banner read, "Swift Solutions."

"I guess we could ask around in here." Oliver shrugged, "After all, the taskmaster knows what's going on most of the time. And someone may have posted something useful."

The desert girl shook her head, still hugging her body close. "Either way, it will get us out of the snow. Maybe it will do better on his bad mood." She had meant for her last words to be coated in sarcasm, but Oliver smiled at what he assumed was her thoughtfulness.

Esther went first, recoiling at how cold the ice block door was when she pushed her palms up against it. She paused a moment, stared at her reddening hands, and then inhaled.

_Just do it quickly, and then it won't be so bad._

Using her shoulder this time, she thudded against the ice, watched it scrape across the snowy floor, and squeezed herself through. She hadn't opened the door quite far enough, and the ice kissed her chest while the snow wall of the igloo grabbed her from the back. Esther cringed and hopped up and down once inside, causing her bag to jingle from the contents inside.

"Cold..._cold..._" she said with clinking teeth. The girl tried to still them, but found the act impossible.

Swaine stood across from her in front of the bulletin board. He gave her an awkward stare before shaking his head.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," he said.

"Shut up!" she stomped her foot and pushed her face toward his. "What's the big idea running off, anyway?"

"I didn't _run_ off," he replied with an even tone. "If you and Oliver want to go search for information in the freezing cold without any winter wear, then that's on you. As for me, I think I'll stay _indoors,_ thank the lot of you very much."

"Staying indoors won't get us anywhere," Esther argued. "Stop being a coward for once, Swaine."

His eyes darkened. "A _coward?_ How is wanting to stay alive being a _coward? _Are you just plain _stupid?_"

"Takes one to know one."

"_A~hem._"

The bickering duo spun around to see Oliver in front of the door, Drippy down around his ankles, and the taskmaster drumming his fingers along the shiny counter top. The crackling from the fire behind him was all that could be heard for the moment until he spoke again.

"Begging your pardon, but would you mind keeping the noise level to a dull roar? There _are_ others in here, too, you know..."

"Sorry," Swaine muttered and turned away.

"Yes, sorry." Esther bowed.

"Now then," the taskmaster went back to his paperwork, "you are more than welcome to stay in here to keep warm. Outsiders, I take it? Best find some better clothes before long. Of course, please keep the noise down."

The girl shifted her eyes to see who else was in the igloo listening in on the argument. The room was quite spacious for appearing so tiny on the outside. She was amazed the taskmaster could get everything looking as nice and neat as he had. Bookshelves decorated one half of the room, vases accented the reflection of the ice, especially coming from the fire behind him, and the bulletin board was off to the right. A white rug was hung behind it.

_I thought he said there were other people in here. There's no one but the taskmaster and us._

The white rug shook from behind the bulletin board. Esther cocked her head, one brow arched higher than the other.

_Is that a...tomte? I thought he was a part of the decorations. How embarrassing..._

"So, now what?" Oliver crossed his arms, but not with the same desire to keep warm as he had before. Esther noted that she was doing better as well. It was at least tolerable in here. "We need to find the elder, or at least some clue about the magic stones to fix Mornstar."

"But it's proper cold, out there, ei'nt it?" Drippy brought a hand up under his chin and closed his eyes to think. "Bein' in here is nice, mun. I can't imagine leavin'."

"We can't just stay in here, Mr. Drippy," the boy argued. "I know it's cold, but we won't meet the elder this way."

"I say the next best thing is to call it a day and try again in the morning." Swaine raised a hand.

Esther looked at him. "That won't change what the temperature is tomorrow. We'll have the same problem then as we're having now."

"I'd like to hear what _your_ good idea is, then."

"I didn't say I _had_ one, just that your idea wasn't going to get us anywhere."

"Well, _excuse_ me then. I didn't realize it was a competition of who had better ideas, or, in your case, no ideas at all."

She threw her arms up. "Why does _everything_ have to be so _difficult_ with you, Swaine?"

"I'm _not_ difficult. You're just not listening to anyone else but _yourself._"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"_Ahhhh~hem!_"

The squabbling duo turned to the taskmaster, whose beady eyes were so dangerous it could've turned them to stone, had he the power to do so. Pursing her lips together, Esther averted her gaze. Swaine did the same thing.

After a few moments, the thief said in a low voice, "I'm just saying that we've been walking around in the snow most of the day. It's cold, I'm tired—I'm sure you all are—and we're not getting anywhere because no one can think straight. I mean _look_ at you." He gestured to her still swollen hands, red arms, and messy hair, "We're not at our best right now. So let's just call it a day and we can start again in the morning. The village elder isn't going anywhere. We'll have plenty of time to find him and ask permission to enter Glittering Grotto tomorrow."

Esther paused to consider. When Swaine put it _that_ way, she became aware of how stiff and tired she was. And wet. Her shoes were still sloshing around with water when she walked and her arms and legs were puffy from the cold. She didn't even want to see what her hair looked like now, and judging from how Oliver and Swaine appeared, she wasn't any better. Even Drippy was shivering, though he tried to hide it.

"You have a point," she concluded. "Let's call it a day and we can start again tomorrow. I'm sure that will be all right with Oliver, too."

When her eyes met Swaine again, he was no longer staring back. Instead, he was making an uncomfortable face and his attention was focused behind her. Esther glanced over her shoulder, saw nothing, so pivoted until she came chest to stomach with the white tomte she had eyed earlier.

She shrieked and jumped back into Swaine, who caught her around the shoulders. His grip was firm as he tried to keep from losing balance himself.

The tomte didn't seem to notice.

"Hello," he waved, his voice as deep as the tomte's they had met earlier at Glittering Grotto. Once he started, Esther found it was hard to follow his strange dialect. She pushed herself off of the thief and stepped toward the white creature. "You are being Oliver, yes?"

Drippy waddled a couple of steps forward, then turned to the boy. "_Crikey, _Ollie-boy, there you were with the tomtes for butties and you never even _told_ us." Disappointment crossed his face. "There's secretive, you are."

"Um...no," Oliver waved his hands at the fairy. "I don't know any tomtes. I don't even know how he knows me."

"Well, we _did_ just say your name a few moments ago," Swaine chuckled.

"No, no," the tomte interrupted. "I am learning it from my teacher, yes? She is being your biggest fan."

The wheels were turning in Esther's head. Biggest fan? Learning about Oliver through a teacher? How would the _teacher_ know about Oliver?"

"Your...teacher?" she asked.

The tomte nodded several times. "My teacher, yes. She is coming to our village to study the ancient archaeology." Then he patted a furry paw against his chest. "I am being her pupil, yes? I am being Ake. Hello to you."

Oliver and Esther replied with introductions while Swaine ran a hand through his wet curls and said, "You're studying archaeology? But you're a...snow...person."

"_Swaine,_" Esther turned and hissed at the thief. "Must you _always_ be _so_ rude?"

"I'm _just_ asking a question," he retorted. "Must you _always_ be _so_ nosy?"

"Yes," the tomte answered, unfazed by the remarks and the argument. "A tomte, yes. I am being Ake."

The girl opened her mouth to excuse Swaine's behavior, but she was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

"Hello to you, Ake. Purrhaps you'd like to introduce me to your new friends?"

Turning her attention to the door, Esther spotted a newcomer—a beautiful brown feline wrapped in a green winter coat. The desert girl wasn't sure what she was in awe of more: the fact that a cat had come all the way out from Ding Dong Dell, or the fact that said feline looked toasty and comfortable in a green coat decorated with pom-poms—something that Esther would've given _anything_ to have for warmth at the moment.

The cat's tail swung back and forth behind her as she walked, then straightened her glasses once she stood in the middle of the group. The feline studied each person, though she gave more time to Oliver than anyone else.

"Hello to you, teacher," Ake beamed. "You are being very late, yes?"

But the teacher was busy grabbing Oliver up in her paws, ogling over the poor child. "Oh...Oh my! Oliver! Goodness, this is such a _purrivilege._ I can scarcely believe that the great wizard Oliver has come all the way out here to this frozen corner of the world."

Swaine wasn't trying to hide his laughter, and Esther covered her face with her hands in shock. Who _was_ this cat woman? Even her tail was swinging faster the more she scrutinized and hovered over the boy. Oliver was caught somewhere between the idea of freeing himself and giving up and allowing the cat to continue to paw all over him.

Tired of being in the dark, the young girl stepped in. "Excuse me, ma'am." She waited until she had the cat woman's attention. "Please don't think me rude, but...who _are_ you? How do you know about Oliver?"

"Oh," the woman jumped back when she realized what she was doing and rubbed her paws on her coat. "I must apologize, that was purrfectly rude of me. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Tabitha, a teacher and a purrofessor. I've been reading about all of Oliver's exploits in the Daily Yarn." Then she smiled as she eyed the boy. "You're quite the news purrsonality, you know."

"The Daily Yarn, eh?" Drippy hopped up and down. "That's how you grimalkins learn what's going on in the world, ei'nt it?"

She bent down to observe the fairy as though she hadn't seen him before now. "Well, aren't you a knowledgeable little thing," she cooed. "Yes, that's right. The Daily Yarn is the purremier news purrovider for grimalkins across the world. And lately, Oliver, we've been tuning into the tales of your adventures."

Esther found herself smiling and she glanced over at the young boy. Red had flushed his cheeks, but it wasn't from the cold this time.

"Wow...Thank you, ma'am." He gave a goofy smile. "It's...embarrassing, but, um, thank you."

The cat leaned forward and dusted something imaginary from his cape. "What purrfect nonsense. Embarrassing, you say? Bah, don't be silly. You're a _hero. _And am I happy I ran into you, Oliver. I heard about some of your purroblems and I may have some useful information for you."

"With the magic stones, you mean?" Esther clasped her hands together.

Even though it was Oliver receiving the attention, she couldn't hide her excitement that their adventure was spanning across the world and being told to boys and girls everywhere.

"Yes," Tabitha said. "We've all heard of your efforts in returning your wand to its former glory."

"That Daily Yarn doesn't miss a beat, does it?" One end of Swaine's lips tugged upward into a half smile. "I'm impressed, really I am."

"I'm not sure if Ake told you, but I'm a purrofessor of archaeology, and I happen to know quite a bit about Mornstar."

Drippy squealed, which wasn't something he did often. He inhaled, then exhaled, and stared up at Oliver.

"_Crikey,_" was what he managed after a moment. "There's lucky for ya, Ollie-boy. A turn-up for the books, eh?"

Tabitha meowed and smiled. "According to my research, Mornstar was fashioned by none other than the Wizard King himself. And, just purrior to settling into his eternal slumber, he divided the power of Mornstar into three magical stones and sealed them away. These stones were then entrusted to his most faithful followers in order to purrevent the wand's powers from falling into the wrong hands."

"Most faithful followers..." Oliver echoed. He lowered his gaze to Drippy, whose eyes were on Tabitha. "Mr. Drippy, do you think that creature we fought on Tombstone Trail was a follower? Or how about Aapep from the Vault of Tears? He _did_ have one of the stones after all."

The fairy opened his mouth to answer but Tabitha continued, "Concentrate, Oliver, concentrate. Purrepare yourself for the most important part of what I have to tell you. If my theory is correct..." She took a moment to allow the heightened tension to take effect on the group, and waited until their faces twitched with anticipation before the cat said, "One of those followers, and the stone they were entrusted with, is in a cave beyond this village known as the Glittering Grotto."

There was a pause and Tabitha finished with a smug face. Esther felt her enthusiasm slip away and took a moment to think.

_But, that's what we thought in the first place, right? Kublai's map said the same thing._

Swaine punched a fist in the air. "Bingo! That must be where the map of the stones was pointing us to."

The young girl turned her eyes to the thief, who wore a different expression than any she had seen before. His eyes sparkled with vigor, and she wondered if his smile would split his face being as wide as it was.

_Is he being __**sarcastic? **__Or...is he flirting with her?_

Something he _always_ did with young girls. It infuriated Esther.

But where Swaine found the grin, Tabitha swallowed it. She looked as though she had been moments away from being awarded a prize just to have someone come and take it back from her.

"Map of the stones?" she whispered. "Y-You mean...?" Her clouded eyes were hidden behind her glasses and she slouched over, head pointed to the floor. The poor cat's ears were even flattened against her head. "You knew where it purrecisely was already? So I haven't helped you at all...How inexpurressibly disappointing..."

"Oh, no, that's not true," Oliver reached out to touch her arm. "We didn't know anything about the Wizard King, or his followers, or any of that stuff. It's helped us to understand the creature we got the first stone from. Thank you, Purrofessor."

She accepted the gratitude, but still appeared forlorn.

"Purrofessor Tabitha," Esther began, hoping that her new question would lift the cat's spirits. "What kind of place is Glittering Grotto?"

"...Well..." She stood up straight again and adjusted her glasses. "As I mentioned, it's a place beyond Yule. A cave marked on the ancient maps as 'the Maw of the Mountain King.' I believe that the Mountain King and the Wizard King are one and the same. But the cave has the power to suck objects into its deepest and darkest depths. This is what leads me to believe that one of the Wizard King's magic stones is hidden deep within Glittering Grotto."

"Of course it would be," Swaine was no longer smiling, but Tabitha's enthusiasm had been restored. Esther found the sudden swap fitting, but also knew that there would only be one reason for Swaine's sudden anxiety. "I have a bad feeling about this."

_He's really putting on the whiny show now, isn't he? Perhaps he thinks that by acting this way, she'll offer to give us the grand tour._

"Yes, I'm sure you _do_ have a bad feeling, you great, big wimp!" Esther pointed an accusing finger in his direction. "In case you didn't know, it's called _terror._"

Swaine's eyes widened at her harsh words. He wasn't used to her calling him direct names, despite all of their arguments, and it was always worse when she insulted him in front of strangers. There was a flash of hurt that Esther caught in his face, and he turned away.

"Shut up. It...It's not any of that. It's...intrepidness and...excitement."

Intrepidness and excitement.

A pang of guilt hit Esther, only because she knew her words had cut him. There was something about being called a coward that never sat right with Swaine, and it wasn't until his royal identity had been revealed that the girl figured out what it was.

_The truth is...giving up the throne for his brother was probably the most courageous thing Gascon could've done, despite having run away from the Empire. And I've called him a coward and a wimp in less than ten minutes. I wonder what's got me in such a mood today. Must be the cold..._

He was still showing off for Tabitha by pretending not to be angry at Esther for calling him names.

But she knew better.

Swaine was _furious._

"Before you go rushing off in purrsuit of the stones, you'll need the purrmission of the village elder to enter Glittering Grotto."

"We're actually looking for him." Oliver's eyes widened with excitement. "Do you know where he is?"

Tabitha's mouth twisted at one end. "Unfortunately...he's away at a gathering of the elders at the moment. You'll have to wait until tomorrow to meet him."

"Figures..." Swaine sighed.

"I was hoping I could accommodate you at my place," Tabitha continued, "but I'm afraid there's not enough room to swing a cat."

Oliver waved his hands. "Oh no, it's okay. You've done more than enough for us already. Thank you Purrofessor Tabitha."

"Don't be silly, it should be me thanking you. It's not every day you get to purrovide a renowned hero with help on his legendary quest." The cat gave a small bow before perking up and adding, "By the way, there should be room for all of you at the inn just inside the entrance to the village. I wish you a purrfectly wonderful night's rest."

Tabitha gave a pat on Oliver's shoulder before shuffling past them and out the door. Esther looked around and noticed that Ake was no longer in the igloo and must have left quite some time ago.

"So, like I said..." Swaine gave a yawn and stretched. "She said the inn, right? Best to at least get checked in and wait until morning. Fancy that, the elder being out of town of all days."

"It's proper strange, but necessary, perhaps." The fairy climbed up the boy's shoulder and under his cape just as Oliver opened the ice block door.

A gust of cold air intruded, and Esther found her arms hugging her waist again. For a short while, she had forgotten what it was like to feel uncomfortable.

The walk back to the entrance was quicker than it had been to Swift Solutions. Swaine was eager to keep everyone from getting distracted, and Esther couldn't blame him. She was tired of feeling wet and cold, and she felt a migraine coming on. Her fingers had just started to go back to their normal size, but the shock of returning them to the cold made them red and itchy all over again. The desert girl wiped them on her pants, but they were soaked too, and didn't much make a difference.

Oliver pushed the door open where a fat cat stood waiting in behind an ice counter. A small fire was crackling behind her, just like in Swift Solutions. The igloo inn was a bit bigger than the taskmaster's shop, and Esther wondered how many rooms there actually were.

"We have one room left," the purrprietor announced after checking her logs. "Two beds. Will this be sufficient?"

"I'll sleep on the floor," Swaine volunteered. "Not much choice in the matter anyway."

"Very good," the purrprietor held out her plump paw, awaiting currency.

Oliver counted out the coins from his pouch before placing them into her possession and she returned with a single key.

"Make sure you don't lose this," she told him. "It's one key purr room, you know..."

"Thanks," the boy smiled and tucked it into his pouch.

"I'm ready for a proper nap, I am," Drippy yawned.

"You can say that again," Swaine found the yawning act contagious, and Esther was trying hard to keep from doing it herself.

"Oliver? Oliver are you here?" The large ice block scraped across the snowy ground and Tabitha stepped in. Her furry cheeks were wet from the snow and she was out of breath. "Oh, thank goodness I caught you here. Please, would you mind coming with me for a moment?"

The boy turned and met the cat's eyes. "Oh, Purrofessor Tabitha. What's wrong?"

"Nothing is the matter, really, but I have found the purrfect thing for you. I forgot to mention it from before. Please, the research is at Ake's home, and I would love for you to purrocure it. It's about Mornstar."

"_Really?_" Swaine crossed his arms. "What's this about?"

"It won't take long, I promise," the cat protested. "But I believe this is something worthy of Oliver's purrecious attention."

Oliver shrugged. "Would you guys mind waiting a bit? I mean...You can take the key and sleep now if you want..."

"I'll wait," the thief ran a hand through his curls. They were drying out a bit better, and the life was coming back to their poof. "It won't take real long, right? I guess I can look around the village while you're gone. Haven't been to Yule and if I go to the room now, I'll be asleep before long." The bag he had been carrying dropped to the floor.

Esther narrowed her eyes. "Isn't that what you _wanted,_ you lazy oaf?"

"Hey," he balled a fist. "I'm _tired,_ yes, but what's another fifteen or twenty minutes, eh? Besides, the snow isn't as heavy now. I'm sure I can wander around until Oliver gets back."

She placed her hands on her hips and leaned off to one side. "Feeling brave, are we? Thirty seconds ago you were ready for bed."

"That was _then_ and this is _now._" Swaine pushed his way past her. "Whatever. I don't have to explain myself to you."

Esther held her breath and watched the thief shove the door open and storm out. Somehow, she didn't think he was in his usual arguing mode—the kind where one could say something and the other retort but both shrug it off and move on. She knew him well enough by now.

He was angry, and Esther knew it was because of her.

_So __**that's **__why he didn't want to stay in the room without Oliver. It would just be me and him and he's still angry because I called him a coward earlier._

At least...she was _pretty_ _sure_ that was why he was angry.

Shaking off her guilt, Esther gave a "ha!" and jerked a finger in the direction he had disappeared in. "What's _his_ problem?"

Drippy, Oliver, and Tabitha continued to stare at her as though they knew what was wrong, knew it was her fault, but didn't want to say anything lest they cause further damage.

"Anyway," Tabitha turned to the younger boy, "would you mind following me? Ake is waiting with the research."

"Oh," Oliver gestured to the group's bags. "Let me get these to our room really quick and I'll be glad to join you."

"Leave them," a voice from behind said. All turned to see the purrprietor waving a paw. "I would be honored to take them to your room for you. Wouldn't want to hold up someone like Purrofessor Tabitha. She's purretty famous in these parts. And, of course, we cats all know about you, too, Oliver the great wizard."

"Ah," Oliver's cheeks flushed. "Thank you so much." He let his bag slump to the ground.

"This is excitin'!" Drippy crawled back under Oliver's cape. "Lead on, will ye? Flippin' cold it is out there. I feel like I'm turnin' into a fairy icicle, I do. All yellow and blue and—"

The Lord High Lord of the Fairies continued to talk and his voice trailed on long after Oliver and Tabitha had exited and the boy turned to Esther and said, "We'll be back later." The desert girl was left standing in the lobby by herself. Even the purrprietor had grabbed up their bags and disappeared into the back. She sighed and struggled with the inner debate of what to do next. She could wait in the lobby for Oliver to return, which sounded boring beyond everything. She could also venture out into the freezing cold like Swaine in search of—

"Blizzard blooms!" she interrupted herself and turned to the door. "Someone in the village _has_ to have them."

Esther fumbled with her pouch and inspected the currency inside. Blizzard blooms couldn't be _too_ expensive, could they? After all, they were indigenous to the area. Never mind the dangerous task of actually _harvesting _the flower, which was located high in the mountains according to the books she read and tales her mother would tell her.

She wished her mother was around so that she could ask questions like these. The ice queen knew everything about these parts, and Esther wondered which igloo had once belonged to her. There was a thought that maybe the villagers knew who she was and if she had ever returned since leaving Al Mamoon, but that was so many years ago. The girl hadn't the faintest idea of who to ask or where to go.

_If I had a picture maybe then someone would recognize her. But father destroyed everything of hers after she left. He told me never to pry or ask where she went. He would be disappointed if he discovered my intentions._

Esther paused, and stared out the window next to the door. The snow was fluttering to the ground in small waves, just as Swaine said. Her eyes focused on one until it fell below the windowsill and she couldn't see it any longer.

Her mother left all of her belongings behind, wanting to start anew. She didn't take her white winter coat that looked like a royal gown, or the blizzard bloom Father smashed under his sandal when he knew that she was never coming back. She didn't take her picture books, her ice skates, or her wedding bracelet.

And she didn't take Esther.

_ Mother's not here. She swore she'd never come back to Yule. It would be a waste of time to even ask. She's not the ice queen any longer. She's a pirate princess on a ship across the ocean, or a beautiful maiden dangling her legs off a dock in Castaway Cove. She's not here._

The sun, and the desert, and the ocean made it too easy to care. Esther imagined turning her heart into stone. She imagined it adjusting to the cold in the air, and breathing it into her bloodstream. She imagined losing the desert within her and adapting the cold. She imagined not caring anymore. If _she_ became the ice queen, then she could pretend that her mother never lived here. If _Esther_ became the ice queen, it wouldn't hurt so bad to accept that her mother was never coming back.

**\/\/\/**

Yeah, I always wondered what Esther's mother was like in the game, especially since we never saw her in the other world but we did in Motorville. Felt a little cheated, I did. Anywho, I wanted to keep the piece as a self-reflection rather than an entire WAFF piece—sort of like 'To Steal a Smile.' I hope I did as well as I did the first time around, but it not, let me know (constructively, of course).

This is the first of three chapters and I'll post the second one sometime this weekend.

ML


	2. Prince Charming is a Pig

**Disclaimer: **I own this..._idea_ of what Esther's mother is like. Haha, but no, I really own nothing.

**A/N: **Again, fatty mcfat fat WAFF/Fluff alert. Just saying. Also, I don't know Esther's mother's name; I made it up for the sake of the story so please don't quote me, haha...If I'm wrong about any information regarding her, please tell me. And, as always, please let me know what you think (constructively). :-D

Guest – That makes me really, **really** happy to hear that. I hope I continue to please and thank you for the kind words.

Kur – Haha, yeah, I looked at it and knew that people were going to think that it was going to be a multi-chapter fic about Esther's mom being a real queen in a far off country. While that would actually be something fun to write about, it's not happening here. I hope that doesn't deter from the story though. Sorry for being misleading. And thank you for the compliments.

Cassa of the fans – Believe me, I actually agree with you, haha. When I stumbled upon all the fanfiction dedicated to them, I only had Swaine in my party for a little while and was nowhere near the end of the game. I was expecting Oliver/Esther long before I saw Swaine/Esther, and my first thought was, "Wait, what? He's about thirty." But the more I played into the game, the more I realized that I had no choice but to blame Studio Ghibli for throwing all the hints out there. It's as though they wanted to ship them, too XD. Swaine's a womanizer and he even makes a couple of flirty comments toward Myrtle (although she can't hear him), adding to the canonical absurdity of it all. It would've been easier to swallow if they had lessened the age gap between them, but Studio Ghibli has a lot of cutesy love between children of unspecified ages in their animation and asks the viewers to suspend rational thought and simply say, "Aw, that's so cute." Take Ponyo for example. Sosuke and Ponyo are five, but it's a story about love (I won't say more for spoilers sake for those who haven't seen it). The animations do a good job of helping to look past age, which is what I personally had to do, but I definitely understand where you're coming from. I just can't help but ship the hell out of these two, though. And thank you for your kind words. I hope the remainder of the story lives up to the first chapter. :-D

Kingkobold – Thank you :-D

And now, onto the story!

**\/\/\/**

**Her Majesty, the Ice Queen**

**Chapter Two**

**Prince Charming is a Pig**

**\/\/\/**

Esther pushed her way out the front door, and the snow and wind gave a surprise attack to the front of her body. She bit down on her lip to keep from yelping and hugged herself while using her hip to push the door closed. Standing there a moment, she fought to regain her bearings. Esther allowed the cold to embrace her, as painful as it was, and made no movements. The wind touched her face, soft at first and then harsh. She breathed in, and felt a snowflake tickle the inside of her nose. Esther rubbed at it, and sighed. She glanced down and saw that the snowflakes had made small piles in the crooks of her elbows and right on top of her chest where her collar bone met her neck. She brushed them away without another thought. Esther wanted to enjoy herself—told herself that coming to Yule was a sign—but it was going to be difficult. She wondered if Swaine was having the same problems.

_I certainly hope so. What a big baby, running off like that. I can't believe he's angry because I called him a wimp and a coward. He was __**acting**__ like one, he knows that. He's not only a wimp but overly sensitive as well._

She pushed her bottom lip out, and her eyes became angry, narrow slits. The fact that he hadn't wanted to stay in the room until Oliver returned bothered her as well. Even as a child she couldn't sit well with herself if she knew someone was angry with her. Perhaps it was because she spent most of her time alone or with her father growing up after Mother left, and even then, Rashaad the Great Sage didn't make for wonderful company.

Esther loved her father, but he could be harsh and didn't allow her to wander far from his sight, even more so after Shadar broke her heart. She didn't want to blame her mother for leaving—her father's raging attitude after the Dark Djinn destroyed their family chased everyone they knew and loved away. Esther thought it all a dream when they left. There was the twinkle of flashbacks of the fights between friends, and the sight of her mother's back when the woman walked away from her father for the last time. It was only after Oliver saved her and announced the quest to save his mother did Esther remember the woman she admired so much.

Except...Esther's mother was nowhere in sight.

She remembered the ice queen leaving, she really _did,_ but thought it to have been a bad dream. Things felt that way being brokenhearted after all. Not much care was given into the lives of others and what was going on around them, which induced the dream-like state that Esther remembered far too well and shuddered at.

When that dream became truth, however, it left her feeling betrayed and bitter.

Not that _she_ would ever tell her father and Oliver that.

But, even now, she couldn't understand why her mother would abandon _her—_not even to bother taking Esther with her, or to help her recover, or...or...

She _hated_ not knowing why. Even with someone as dumb as Swaine, she couldn't stand the thought of not knowing why someone didn't want to be around her and that they had to struggle to keep away.

_I wonder if Mother did that too. I wondered if she went to great lengths to avoid me, so much that she up and moved halfway around the world...__**wherever**__ she is now..._

Esther wondered if she ever thought of Yule, the family and friends she left behind, and the village life. Mother never liked the city, but Yule was too small.

_Just like royalty, sometimes. Nothing would please her._

Her mother may as well have been royalty what with the beauty, the grace, and...the attitude to match. It was hard to believe that Betty and her mother were soul mates. Not that her mother wasn't kind—very much so—but she had the adventurer's spirit. Esther felt like she had inherited that from her mother. If she could inherit nothing else, at least the girl had _that._

She shuddered and tried to stand up as straight as she could before walking down the snow path. Esther passed Swift Solutions—the furthest she had gone before turning back to the inn. She kept going this time, watching others dressed better than she pass her on the white blanketed road.

The snow was falling again.

_I am proud. I am my mother's daughter. I am the ice queen now._

She wondered which igloo had belonged to her mother.

Still hugging her body, Esther found herself on the other side of the village. Three children were rolling together a snowman in front of a well-lit igloo, while two more hopped onto a sled and took off down a small hill next to where others played. A tomte was amongst them, holding a large white ball in his arms. He shuffled his feet and placed the ball on top of a larger one and his playmates smoothed out the snow along the edges.

On the other side of the hill a man wrapped in a blue coat and a tomte sat on boxes on top of an icy pond. There were fishing poles in their hands and the lines were dipped into a large hole that had been cut into the middle of the ice. Water bubbled from within the hole from time to time, but otherwise sat still. Esther wondered if they worried about falling through, sitting on top of the frozen water. Then again, she had never gone fishing before and maybe was worrying for nothing.

A peddler with a large burlap sack on his back paced along the area, calling out for others to view his wares. He smiled and saluted Esther as they crossed paths, but she was certain his smile held some pity for her. After all, she was the only one dressed out of the ordinary.

"Excuse me," she stopped him, trying her best to still her chattering teeth.

"Welcome to you." He set his pack on the ground. "You are being interested in these?" he began to untie his pack, but the girl stopped him.

"I was just wondering if you might be selling blizzard blooms."

The peddler stopped, and the look on his face worried Esther. She wondered if she had asked something taboo, being a foreigner to the Winter Isles and all. His eyes shifted from side to side as he tied up his pack and hoisted the straps over his shoulders.

"You are being interested in blizzard blooms, yes?" Esther nodded. "Blizzard blooms are only being harvested once every four months. Last shipment is going out already, yes? No more until next month."

"Going out?" her brows knitted together. "But aren't the blizzard blooms indigenous to this area? Why would it take so long to get some? And where do you ship them out to?"

"It is not being me," the peddler shook his head. "Taka," he pointed across the pond where the others were fishing and Esther thought she saw a giant tomte wandering behind them. "He will harvest blizzard blooms. But it is being very dangerous, yes? High in the mountains and on the snow islands across the sea, too. Monsters like blizzard blooms. Taka sends blizzard blooms across the world for alchemy."

She did not try to hide the disappointed sigh that managed to escape through her mouth. Esther hung her head, feeling something shatter from within her chest.

_I really wanted one, just like Mother had. But I guess it can't be helped. If I brought one back, Father might get angry with me. He'd probably crush it under his heel, too. He hates everything that has to do with Yule._

"Cheer up now," the peddler hunched over so that he could catch her eyes, as unhappy as they might be. "Taka would hold blizzard bloom for you. Would sell for nice price, too. That is making you happy, yes?"

She appreciated his sentiment, and told herself to stop pouting. She had done without a blizzard bloom for all these years, so what was another month or so?

_Assuming I can make it back here in a month's time..._

"Yes," she sniffled, feeling her nose running again. She hoped the peddler wouldn't take it as an act of crying. "That would be wonderful. Thank you so much."

"I be telling Taka for you," he saluted her again. "You having a good evening now." He walked away.

Evening? Was it that time already? Esther craned her head to stare at the snowflakes falling from the sky. It was hard to tell the time of day being in the village because the clouds hung very low. There was still a sliver of light penetrating through them, however, which meant that she had some time left before night fell across the sky.

"Wait," she blurted out to the peddler. He stopped and turned back to her. "I have something I want to ask you."

Dread filled Esther as the man walked closer. She fought for the courage to ask the one question that had been bothering her ever since she came to the Winter Isles. She hoped she wouldn't lose herself now.

"Yes?" the peddler asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Esther licked her cold, cracked lips. There was the small taste of iron, and she realized that they were bleeding.

"Do you know a woman named Gwyneira?" The girl fidgeted, and struggled to keep her attention on the man. She wanted to know, yet, she really did not.

The man gave her a puzzled look and then his face softened. But it softened in a way that cracked her heart in half.

He didn't know her.

"Very sorry, but this name is not being familiar to me."

Esther smiled, although she didn't understand why. "No, no," she waved her hands. "It's my fault. I thought you might know her, being a merchant around town. No, don't feel bad. It's quite all right."

She was sure she was trying to convince herself rather than him. He nodded and gave her the tip of his hat before going away again. Esther stood in the snow, feeling colder than she had before. She looked to the sky. The snow was coming on harder.

"It's almost dark now," she mumbled and forced herself to shiver in the hopes of bringing some life back into her body. "Best be getting back. Oliver is probably there waiting."

Or so she hoped he was. As much as Esther wanted to get off her feet, heading to the inn didn't feel like what she needed. Her head was still replaying the peddler's conversation in her head, of how there were no blizzard blooms, and how he hadn't been acquainted with a woman named Gwyneira.

Gwyneira.

Esther hadn't spoken her mother's name aloud since before she was heartbroken, and vowed never to utter it again after coming to realize her mother's abandonment. It troubled her as to why she cared now—it was clear her mother didn't—but Esther was certain it had something to do with being in the village. She wondered if there were any relatives or friends left of her mother's. Grandmother and grandfather had passed several years earlier, and her mother never spoke much of those she knew in the village.

Esther imagined her mother living close to the back entrance of the village, in case she ever wanted to sneak away on an adventure. Or go shopping. Most of the merchants had set up around there around the frozen pond where clientele was high with ice fishing, skating, and other snow related activities.

It made her smile, even if it was small. The idiosyncrasies of the people in the village were too distracting. Esther watched a couple, hand in hand, slide across the ice using the aid of strange shoes with blades attached to the bottoms. She recognized them as the ice skates Mother had shown her years ago. Her mother's pair had been white to match her fur coat, with laces that always appeared too difficult to tie, but her mother was adept at it. Esther wanted a pair for her very own someday. She kept her eyes on the couple even after they had glided past. The man moved closer to the girl and kissed the top of her forehead.

"How romantic," Esther smiled. "I wonder if Father and Mother went ice skating together. I'll bet Mother taught him everything." The image of her father toppling over on the ice was enough to lift her somber mood, and Esther decided to walk back to the inn after all.

Depending how things went in a month's time, she wondered if she could convince her father to take her back to Yule, although that seemed bleak. Maybe Oliver and Drippy would come with her. She would buy a blizzard bloom for sure, and go ice skating, and make snowmen.

"—No, really. The pleasure is all mine."

Esther glanced up at the igloo in front of her. A man plump with a large, wool blanket stepped out of the house with a raven-haired woman dressed the same way.

"Thank you, Swaine." The woman swayed from side to side, smiling. "I am grateful for the babanas."

Esther's smile faced its end and she leaned forward to stare at the man wrapped in the thick, brown blanket. Curly hair...sadistic laugh...cocky attitude...

The thief's arms were hidden under the blanket, making it look like a poncho. He nodded down at the garment. "Well, I can say the same about the blanket. Fair exchange, I'd say. Perhaps...we can exchange more later?" His trademark goofy smile was there, and he was leaning into the empty space before the woman. She held a gloved hand to her mouth and giggled. With her other hand, she was brushing snowflakes from her hair.

"Are you quite certain you don't want to stay longer?"

"Your invitation flatters me, but I must be meeting my friends soon. I won't leave without saying goodbye." His hand popped out from under the blanket and reached up to take the hand that was combing her hair.

Esther could feel the air fill her empty cheeks as she pushed them out, pouting, and her eyes narrowed.

_What a __**useless**__ good-for-nothing. Here I am, freezing in simple attire, and he's out flirting with strange women and taking the blankets from their beds. How incredibly...__**insulting.**_

"Swaine!" The blonde girl took several steps toward the igloo home, her balled fists at her side. But no matter how intimidating she tried to appear, she couldn't stop her body from shaking. Whether it was from the cold or the anger, however, she didn't know.

The thief dropped his hand and both he and the woman turned to stare at the outraged girl. Esther tried to keep all of her attention on the scruffy man, but she couldn't help but share some of her discontent with the female as well.

The woman managed to repel the glare well.

"Is _that_ one of the friends you were talking about, Swaine?" she jerked a thumb in Esther's direction. "She's merely a child. Your little sister perhaps?"

Esther stomped a foot against the snow, then cringed when it caved into the fresh powder and became stuck. "Hey!" she shouted, and tried to appear inconspicuous while pulling her trapped foot free. "I am _not_ a child, thank you very much, nor am I his _sister._"

Swaine's eyebrow lifted while the other accented the top of his other eye. "Esther, what are you doing here?" he asked, even toned. "You're turning purple, you know that, right?"

The blonde girl stood stiff. She had thought as much, but hearing the hooligan say it made it much worse. His reprimanding irritated her. Maybe he _was_ trying to play the part of an older brother, or a parent, and that made things worse. But he proved his point well. His hair had straightened out and the color returned to his face now that he was snuggled in the blanket. And Esther could see herself now: matted wet hair, red puffy skin, and body shaking with chattering teeth.

"I...I'm _fine,_" was all she could say. The girl next to him chortled."While _you_ were out womanizing, I scouted around town. I assume you have blankets for everyone."

The woman turned back to Swaine. "She's a little demanding, isn't she? Do you have to put up with it often?"

"You have _no_ idea," he laughed back.

Esther frowned, half from humiliation and half from the hurt of his words. In this instance, both were against her, and Swaine was with another woman.

Maybe he would take her up on her offer and stay the night in her igloo.

"But I suppose I _should_ get her back to the inn," the thief finished before giving the woman a pat on the hand he had held earlier. "I wouldn't know how to explain it if she froze to death because of me."

"See me again tomorrow." She waved at him and he descended her icy steps.

Esther waited for Swaine to approach, which he did, but then continued past her to the inn. The young girl whirled around, pain still struck into her face. She watched his back move away from her, the ends of his long blanket sweeping across the top of the snow. It was piling higher. Esther looked away to her shoulder where the white fluff had inched up on her. Swaine was probably right in that she was turning purple. She could almost _feel_ that she was, anyway.

She gave one last look to the woman who was no longer there, but inside of her cozy igloo. Esther snorted and began on a light jog after Swaine. He didn't seem much to notice she hadn't been following along, nor did he notice when she caught up. The girl glared up at him, but he had his attention facing forward.

"Found yourself a nice girl, I see." She tried to make her words come out as cruel sounding as his had. She wasn't sure if she succeeded.

Swaine rolled his eyes. "Since _when_ do I need to check all of my friends in to you? Get a life, Esther."

She stopped walking, that familiar sharp pain stinging in her chest. Warm tears dammed up in her eyes and she found that her voice was caught in her throat. Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it was _not_ that. Their arguments never went like this. Then again, the circumstances had always been different. Esther had never cared before.

Sure, she found Gascon dashing, and handsome, and everything that Swaine wasn't. He had a fierce love and loyalty toward his father, brother, and empire that could not be rivaled by many. It was what had enticed Esther, gave her butterflies in her stomach, and kept going even when Gascon departed from their company.

The problem was...those butterflies never left.

_How can I like such a __**stupid**__ man? He's immoral, indecent, and insensitive. I find it impossible that he and Gascon are one and the same person. Gascon would never have said something so cruel._

Just before the tears threatened to spill over, Esther wiped them away with her sleeve, and turned away. She ignored the crunching of her heart and remained there a moment longer.

"Esther, if you continue to stay out here, you _will_ freeze to death."

The girl looked back to see the curly haired man staring at her. His eyes were tired and serious, and he didn't appear at all in the mood to joke around. He stood waiting for her, and refused to move until she was walking alongside him again. His terrible words seemed like a distant memory looking into his half-lidded eyes. Perhaps the day had just been too much for him.

"Come on, then," he beckoned her to his side using one of his blanketed arms. "A storm's moving in."

He was right. The snow was only getting worse and it was difficult to see the path. And she was freezing. Wrapping her arms around her body, she shuffled forward, hoping that her eyes wouldn't decide to fill up with tears again. She refused to speak to him and he watched her until she walked ahead. Somehow, she could still feel his eyes on her.

"Oh, I see. Not speaking to me, eh?" she heard him call out from behind. "You know, I really just don't know what's been up with you today. I haven't said more than a few words to you and you're suddenly in my face. Either way, your attitude is beginning to grate on my nerves—more so than usual."

"Shut up," she snapped at him from over her shoulder.

_I __**have**__ been rather mean today, haven't I? But, I just can't help it. First there's my mother, who I can't seem to get out of my head, and Swaine who just needs a good kick._

"Fine. Act like a bit—" he seemed to have caught himself before saying something horrible. He paused for a moment and replaced his name calling with, "Brat."

They were almost at the inn. Esther couldn't wait to be inside somewhere warm and away from the thief. Oliver could talk to him while she was left alone in peace. Her pace quickened and she debated about whether or not she should reply to Swaine.

"You're just cruel," she blurted out without a second's thought.

"Me? What did _I_ do?" he asked, agitated. "_You're_ the jealous one. And rude."

She was happy he couldn't see her at that exact moment. Esther squeezed her eyes shut and grit her teeth together.

"I...am..._not..._jealous." Her walk was closer to a light jog now. "What do _you_ have that I should be jealous of?"

"A warm blanket," Esther heard him mutter.

"You're _incorrigible!_" she cried out and made a last dash to the inn.

The tears in her eyes were coming back, but she refused to let them fall. Her blurry vision would not get the best of her, she vowed, and she pulled the icy door back and stepped into the lobby. She hovered there for a moment, regaining her bearings and wiping at her eyes and nose before Swaine came in.

Faster than she expected, the sound of scraping ice and shuffling feet entered through the door.

"No one's in here," Esther heard him say.

Rather than turn to face him, she looked to what he had been saying. Indeed, the fire was no longer lit behind the counter, and all the lanterns, save one, were blown out.

Swaine moved past her. "I'm going to see if Oliver's back in yet."

He disappeared into the dark corridor, leaving Esther alone. It was not warm inside as it had been earlier. It was only a little warmer than outside, disappointing as it was, and she didn't know where the logs were kept in order to start another fire.

_The keeper should be back before long._

Esther padded toward the counter, a white paper with something scrawled out on it catching her attention. She leaned forward to read it.

_Left for the night to pick up the kittens. The snow is purretty bad outside. Stay indoors and I will be back in the morning. Thank you._

"_Seriously?_" Esther sighed. "She _left_ for the night?"

"Oliver's not back." Swaine reappeared into the lobby. "Does that cat lady have an extra key?"

"She's not _here,_" the girl shook her head. "She won't be back until morning."

Esther watched his jaw drop and then he closed his eyes.

"Well, that's wonderful."

"We can just wait in here until Oliver gets back, Swaine. There's no reason to get upset."

"If Oliver's got half a brain, he'll stay where he's at tonight." The thief gestured to the window. "It's bloody miserable outside."

Esther followed his gaze and stiffened. The snowflakes were thicker and heavier now, and instead of seeing speckles of the white fluff, sprays of light were coming through few and far in between. She slumped against the counter after a moment.

"This _can't_ be happening..." She buried her head into her hands. "So we can't get into the room at _all_ tonight. Where are we supposed to sleep?"

Swaine exhaled. "It could be worse, as horrible a thought as it is. At least we're inside where it's warm. If neither of them are coming back tonight, then I guess we're sleeping in the lobby."

"But it's all _snowy_ in here," she gestured to the floor. "Everything is made of _snow_ except for the vases, some stools, a furry blanket that's wet because everyone's been standing on it, and a bench in the corner."

"Well then," Swaine shrugged," I know where _I'm_ sleeping tonight."

He broke the conversation and took to the bench on the opposite side of the counter. It was shy of being big enough for two, and the thief took the right side of it. Esther frowned. He made himself comfortable and closed his eyes.

"So that's it, then? You're just going to..._sleep_ on the lobby bench?"

"Unless you have a better idea. We don't have a key to the room and a stool doesn't sound comfortable."

Esther clamped her mouth shut. If he wanted to, he could go and sleep in that strange woman's igloo and she had already made a point of expressing her dislike for the young girl. That would mean she would have to sleep in the inn lobby alone. She thought better than to continue to argue with Swaine. At least he was _somebody,_ being in the inn and all. Esther didn't want to be by herself.

The scruffy man closed his eyes a short while later and nestled deeper into the blanket. Esther watched him for a bit, realized he wasn't going to speak to her any longer, and turned away, sullen. She left the lantern burning on the counter and stared at it for a long time. Night was already upon them, and there was no sign of Oliver and the fairy. Perhaps Swaine was right.

Oliver _wasn't_ coming back tonight.

She prayed that they remain safe, and put that thought above the miserable night she knew she was going to have. She was alone in a lobby with none other than Swaine, and he was already asleep. With nothing left but her thoughts, she gave her eyes to the sight of the lantern's fire. It danced around within the confines of the glass, spinning and turning as though it were really a woman trapped within. Her mother was a dancer—amazing at that. Esther thought her to be an equally talented ice skater, even if she had never seen the woman preform. She could also play several instruments and sing. Esther learned how to control a familiar's heart from her father, but her gift of the harp came from her mother. The girl wasn't about to lie to herself about her singing ability, but she was rather proud of her musical aptitude.

It brought back humorous memories—ones of her mother dressed like a sand princess when the only pictures Esther saw of her were the ones of her in Yule. She had heard stories of when her father first met Mother. She talked just like the natives Esther had met and it took years for her father to teach her to speak properly. By the time she graduated from his personal teachings, she could speak better than he could, and with a soft voice that Esther sometimes tried imitating when she thought no one was listening.

Esther found she had inherited none of her mother's grace. It was funny, really. She remembered Myrtle being the same way—a tomboy that kept Betty frustrated. How she longed for a daughter who enjoyed her dresses and fashion just the way her mother did. Esther was clunky and clumsy like her father. She could dance to basic rhythms, but only her fingers and mind could move to music in a way that the rest of her could not. And she had her mother's hair and blue eyes. Esther was grateful for that, too.

The howl from the wind outside and the snow beating against the windows startled her eyes away from the burning lantern and she rubbed them against her balled fists. All she could see was red and orange against her eyelids and her sight was imprinted with the colors no matter where she turned. Once they cleared up, she leaned against the counter again, but diverted her attention from the lantern. A feeling of despair washed over her when her eyes found Swaine's sleeping face. He still only claimed one side of the bench, as if he had been expecting her to come and sit beside him. But Esther was cold and disappointed that he hadn't offered her any of the blanket—not that she would take any from him. That meant she would have to sit very close next to him and share his body warmth. She had her pride.

...Still...despite who he was, and how freezing her body felt, the idea didn't seem as despicable.

But that was beyond the point now. Swaine was asleep and she was very much awake, though her eyelids were drooping.

_I didn't realize how tiring of a day it's been. Trudging through the snow all afternoon took a lot out of me._

She leaned against the counter for a while, sleep starting to come, but then she felt her knees giving away and she was startled awake. Determined to find her own makeshift bed to sleep on, she found a wooden stool against the wall. Esther sat down and placed her back against it before closing her eyes. It was cool to the touch, and she tried to ignore it. She was somewhat comfortable at first, but her back ached after a while, and she felt the urge to curl over onto her side in a fetal position. That was very hard to do on the stool. She sat there for as long as she could, forcing her mind to concentrate on other things besides her aching posture.

She wondered how her mother had been able to endure the cold like this, sleeping in the cold, working in the cold, playing, cooking, surviving...Esther exhaled through her nose. There was so much about her mother that she didn't know and wish she did. Maybe then she'd have a better idea as to where the older woman was. Father acted like he didn't care—said he didn't care—but Esther knew better. He was a prideful man, and she a prideful woman. It was a wonder how they were able to get along so well for as long as they had.

Esther told herself to stop thinking about them. It wasn't healthy. And it had affected her mood all day. If she wasn't angry, she was crying and vice-versa. She felt ashamed that Swaine had almost seen her cry. It was horrible if it was just anyone, but _he_ was different. He would, no doubt, poke fun at her and taunt her emotions. He was just terrible that way.

She next tried to lay herself on the furry blanket, but found her backside damp with melted snow. Esther made a small yelp, and then covered her mouth before looking to the sleeping form of Swaine.

His lids were still closed and locked in deep slumber. She frowned and rolled her eyes. Nothing seemed _important_ enough to wake him now, and she was soaked with water. It wasn't like before where the cold snow had lingered around long enough to dampen her clothes—just enough to be irritating. But here she had sat in water, and the feeling would be around for a while.

_I knew that carpet was damp. __**Why**__ did I lay down anyway?_

She blamed it on sleep deprivation.

Standing back up, Esther's eyes circled around the dimly lit room. The lantern's strength was slowing, and it wouldn't be long until it went out. There was nowhere else to try and sleep except for the one place she didn't want to be. She stared at the vacant spot next to Swaine for a while. She argued with herself about her next move. On one hand, she could imagine herself sitting there, comfortable for once since the day began. On the other, there was _Swaine,_ as well as the thought of him berating her for deciding to take the seat next to him.

Or just the thought of sitting next to him.

Esther stared at his sleeping face, his slow breathing, and the way that the blanket came up around his ears, disturbing his brown curls just enough to see the chiseled shape of his jawline. His lips were parted and she could hear the distinct sound of his breath inhaling and exhaling. In this state, he was so vulnerable—so touchable. In this state, it was hard to believe he was an incredible jerk. Esther continued to watch him, almost forgetting that she was angry with him.

_Almost._

Not wanting to fight her desire to sleep any longer, Esther decided to seat herself on the bench. If she crept, she wouldn't wake him. She held her breath, tip-toed over to the bench, and sat herself as far away as she could without her bottom falling off. The wood groaned underneath her and she held in her displeasure. Swaine didn't stir, and Esther took the opportunity to get herself comfortable. She first tried leaning against the wall of the igloo, but recoiled when the cold made contact with her skin. She twisted her torso just enough to see what was so cold behind her. She was back to back with a window, the snow veiling everything going on outside.

Esther grumbled and scooted forward. No longer having a backrest, she decided to lean forward and sleep on her knees. Her forehead began to hurt, so she placed her arms on top of her thighs so that she could rest her head in the crooks of her elbows. Then her back ached and so she sat up. She realized as she did so, one side of her buttocks was going numb from hanging over part of the bench. She stole a glance at Swaine, who was still fast asleep. Even his back was propped up against the cold wall, but it seemed that he couldn't feel it, being wrapped within a fuzzy barrier.

Against her wants, she shifted her weight on the bench again and scooted closer to the thief, but made sure to keep an invisible wall between them. She tried sitting up and hoped that sleep would claim her. It almost did, but she startled herself awake when she found her weight falling toward Swaine. She pulled back as fast as she could, and scolded herself for coming so close.

Esther stared at him again and frowned. Leaning into him seemed to be the only comfortable option, but it was out of the question. He would never allow it, and she would never allow herself _to do_ it. They had been arguing all day, and he had gone to sleep on bad terms with her. Esther still felt horrible about it. She didn't think her pride would allow her to fall into him only to be rejected. If that were to happen, she knew she would risk finding Oliver in the snow rather than staying at the inn. She would knock on every door in Yule if she had to.

But even more than her pride would be damaged. She liked Swaine in a way that she liked Gascon, and she knew that she could not have one without accepting the other. It didn't seem like a terrible thing, other than the fact that the two fought like oil and water. And there were so many things wrong with the picture—so _many_ things wrong indeed. He was a thief, and she was the daughter of a Great Sage. But he was also a prince—who had given up the throne, yes, but a prince nonetheless.

And he was...older. Father would never approve if he knew, and she would never let him know. And that...that was why she couldn't allow herself to lean into him. It was too painful. If it started there, where else would it go? Would he reject her later? No, Esther would rather suffer and sleep alone with her body cramping. In the end, she would be all right. She knew she would. She would swallow her rejection like the brave woman—the ice queen—she knew she was, and had fought to be like her mother and father. The bench wobbled underneath her and she struggled to sit up straight, prepared to endure the position for the remainder of the night.

"For crying out loud, Esther, knock it off already, would you?"

Startled, the girl turned to Swaine only to find him awake with his eyes staring back into hers. In the darkness it was even more frightening. The lantern had gone out quite a while ago. She shuddered and the thief reached out and pulled her into him. The words left Esther as she found herself the closest she had ever been to the man. He held his arm around her, tightening in on her waist, and curled the blanket around the two of them. It was the warmest she felt all day, and wasn't sure if it was from the blanket or from her own anxiety.

"If you wanted to sleep against me, you could've asked. I've barely gotten a wink of sleep this entire time."

She stared up, but all she could see was under his chin. The scruffy start of his beard scratched the top of her head.

"W...What?" she murmured. "Why?"

"All your walking around, and staring at the lantern, and tossing and turning made me uncomfortable," he said in a low voice. "It was unbearable to watch you."

She wanted to retort—blame him—tell him that if he had been willing to share the blanket in the first place, all of this could've been avoided.

"Sorry..." was all she could manage.

She felt the tension leave his body. Maybe he had been expecting her to argue with him, but she was far too tired.

"I thought you were angry with me," she said after a moment when he didn't speak. "I was scared to ask if you'd let me sleep beside you."

"Of _course_ I was miffed with you," he snapped. Esther lowered her head. For some reason, she couldn't find the strength to defend herself. Maybe it _was_ the need to sleep. Or maybe just being so close to him, feeling his warmth and his arm around her...she just couldn't find the will to do it. But then his voice softened, "That didn't mean I wanted you to be uncomfortable. You've been out in the snow all day, then came out a second time still wearing nothing warm. The only thing that lack of sleep will do for you now is get you sick, and neither of us can afford for that to happen."

"But you got a blanket. And with Oliver gone and no one to get into the rooms—"

"I knew that and was willing to share it with you."

"_I_ didn't know that."

"I'm doing it now, aren't I?" He shifted his weight, but kept his arm around Esther. One of her hands pulled the blanket closer to her, while the other rested on his thigh.

"I'm sorry I called you a coward," she blurted out. "I know how much that word bothers you."

Swaine said nothing for a moment. She could feel him breathing in and out.

"Technically you called me a coward _and_ a wimp. But it's all the same, really. I accept your apology."

"Was that the only reason you were angry with me?"

"No."

She lifted her head and knitted her brows together, curious, yet irritated at the same time. What _else_ had she done? She knew about the one thing, which was enough to get a rise out of him every time, but anything else and she was at a loss.

"You came looking for me without proper clothing. You risked your well being for someone stupid."

Esther froze. Is _that_ what he had been thinking, that she went looking for him? And someone stupid? Was he referring to himself?

His heartbeat was racing.

"Actually..." she drew the syllables out. "I went looking for blizzard blooms."

Swaine paused and Esther could imagine the mortification that was feeding through him at that moment.

"O-Oh. Is that right? Fancy that...I didn't know you liked blizzard blooms."

"Yes, I've always wanted one. My mother was born here in Yule and used to tell me stories about the people here." While Esther's thoughts wandered in reverse, she failed to notice that she was snuggling deeper into Swaine's jacket. "I have never seen snow before this journey. I wanted to experience it—play in it—do all the things I saw the children in the picture books doing. Everyone looked so happy making snowmen, and fishing, and ice skating..." She trailed off, a less than fonder memory coming to mind.

The day her mother left.

"How is your mother?" Swaine asked. "I don't think I've ever heard you mention her before now."

She sighed and lowered her head. "She left my father and I while I was heartbroken. I didn't know it, but my father had been heartbroken in Oliver's world, while I here. Once, I asked Oliver about it, but he was very hesitant to tell me. I suppose it was an ugly mess. When we traveled to his world later, he was doing the best he could to keep me from meeting my mother's soul mate." Esther gave a dry laugh. "Little did he know, I already knew the woman before he realized I had seen her walking down the road."

Somewhere in the midst of her words, Swaine's arm around her had tightened.

"I'm...sorry," he whispered. "That must have been very hard on you. Forgive me for bringing it up."

"No," she shook her head. "I wouldn't have answered if it was too personal."

He chuckled. "That's very brave of you to say."

She wasn't sure what he meant. Esther didn't think she was brave.

"I looked up to her," she confessed. She found once she started talking she couldn't stop. "She was the ice queen of Yule—or, so I always imagined her to be. You'd have to see the pictures, I guess. Her hair was longer than mine, and blue, glassy eyes. And she'd always wear a long, white coat." Esther sighed and kept her head against his shoulder. Swaine said nothing. "I guess..." she continued in a whisper, "...compared to her, I never felt beautiful. I'm clumsy and stiff, not like my mother. She was all of that, and an adventurer, too. I never understood how she did it."

Swaine's voice was stern. "That's not true at all."

"I know, I know. My father would say the same thing. It's just, there _had_ to be something wrong with me. I mean..." She trailed off and took a deep breath.

A memory of her mother walking with her, hand in hand, through the streets of Al Mamoon somehow transitioned into a fight between Mother and Father. That fight ended with her walking away. Even though Esther was heartbroken, she could remember it. How she prayed it hadn't been real.

The thief nudged her shoulder with his. It bumped her head a little as well. "Go on."

Her fingers curled around the fabric of his jacket, something bubbling up inside of her stomach. And there the tears were again. She clenched her teeth together to keep them from spilling over. Through her teeth she said, "I mean, she _left _me." Then her voice cracked and a single tear slid down her face. Esther rubbed it away as fast as it had been born. "I was imperfect. I was heartbroken. She didn't even bother to take me with her, or find a way to fix me, or...or..." Two more tears came and she wiped them with her sleeve before Swaine could notice. "And I miss her." Then she shouted, "And I _hate_ her."

The thief was rocking her back and forth with his arm and hushing her as she cleared the rest of the tears from her face with her arm. She wasn't sure if he knew she was crying; there was no more light for either of them to see—only voices. If he _did_ know, he wasn't letting on. She hoped no one else in the inn had heard her. If they did, they would come and see them sleeping out in the lobby. How embarrassing.

"I'm sorry." She breathed in and out, pushing the thought from her mind. "I didn't mean to lay all of that on you."

"No, no. Don't worry about it. You sounded like you needed to get it off your chest and you did. Is that what's been bothering you all day?"

She nodded, but she didn't think he could see that. So she sniffled and cracked out a, "Yes."

"Maybe you need to think about something else then, eh? A change of topic might do you good."

"No, no, it's not that." She cleared her throat and concentrated on dissolving her unhappy mood. "I'm fine, really. I've come to terms with it long ago. Sort of like you."

"What's that?"

Esther snapped her mouth shut. Swaine hated talking about his past, and even though Esther knew he was a prince, she also knew he didn't like to mention it. "Nothing," she said. He was right, though. She didn't want to talk about her mother any longer. "What about you, Swaine? Have you been to Yule before?"

"No," he shook his head. "If I had, I would've given everyone the courtesy warning to dress accordingly. No, I kept mostly to the east coast near Castaway, Shipwreck Shore, and the isles bordering Hamelin. Just in case _he_ ever needed me."

Marcassin. He meant Marcassin.

Esther smiled.

_That_ was the Gascon she knew—the one who put his brother before everything else, and never was too far from home. Even if he still wouldn't admit being the prince and the brother to the current emperor, it weighed on his mind just as much her own problems did.

"So then..." She shifted in her spot next to him, "You _didn't_ know who that woman was you were talking to earlier?"

"Still on about that, eh?" Esther could hear the rumble in his chest from his laughter. She pulled herself away just long enough to look up at him. He was staring down at her, but held her close. She couldn't remember feeling cold now. "Jealous?"

"_No._" Her eyes narrowed and she stuck her tongue out at him. "I was _just_ curious."

"Awfully angry for someone who is curious."

"Fine. Don't tell me then."

"_No,_ I _don't_ know her. Happy now?"

"Then how did you come to meet? You get close to someone for their blanket?"

He pursed his lips together, but there was still a twinkle in his eyes. "Look, _she_ invited me into her place for dinner. I suppose she fancied me, and we talked a long while about my stories on the coast."

"And did you tell her your occupation?"

Swaine glared at her. "_Anyway,_ she said she wanted to try babanas and I happened to have some in my pocket for later." When Esther made a face he rolled his eyes and retorted, "Well, they weren't _smashed_ or anything, and she liked them so much that she traded them for this blanket."

"That was fortunate enough for you," she chuckled, relieved that there was nothing more to the story like she had suspected. And the blanket _was_ nice. "So you joined her for dinner knowing you would get the blanket?"

"I joined her for dinner to make _someone_ upset..." he turned away from her, a smile playing at his lips.

Esther sighed in agitation, closed her eyes, and placed her head back on his shoulder. "I don't know _how_ that was supposed to make me upset."

"Guess that's the same way I was wrong about you coming to look for me only to find out you were looking for blizzard blooms. I'm not very good at this game, I've realized."

Esther yawned. Crying had made her tired even more so. "What, are you saying that you didn't run out of the hotel because I called you a wimp?"

She felt him staring down at her and wondered what his expression was.

"Oliver and the fairy were leaving, which meant it was going to be just us in the room. Don't you find that a bit uncomfortable?"

_No more uncomfortable than us huddling together for warmth like this._

But she found that she couldn't voice her thoughts. Sleep was creeping up on her now.

"For such a brilliant girl, you can be so dense sometimes..." she thought she heard Swaine say. His voice seemed to echo within the halls of her thoughts. "No matter what I say or do, you just don't seem to get the message...I suppose _I'm_ to blame for my broken heart. Not the kind that Shadar can create but..."

_"...the kind of heartbreak that love brings..."_

Esther thought it was a strange thing for her mind to say, and she began to dream as she curled up against another warm body and was lulled to sleep by the instruments of heartbeats and breathing.

_"...heartbreak..."_

She knew she was dreaming. Esther was dressed in the same white coat her mother always wore, but it was longer and cascaded over the throne she sat upon. Her hair had been let down and fell in rivers down her back and over her shoulders. Something cold touched the top of her ear, and, somehow, she knew it was a blizzard bloom.

An unidentifiable voice called out, "Presenting Her Majesty, the Ice Queen. Bring in the prisoner."

A bright light stretched out from the end of a long hall and Esther had to shield herself until it dimmed. Three shadows made their way toward her, their shoes echoing throughout the room as they walked. She glanced down at the throne she was sitting on and at her surroundings. There was no one there but her and the three figures coming toward her.

Did they mean _her?_ The _ice queen?_

The figures approached faster than she thought they would, and a woman was thrown at Esther's feet. The girl held her breath. It was like looking into a mirror, except that the woman on the ground with her hands tied behind her back was older. Dirt had sullied her pale skin, and her blonde hair was in disarray. But what stood out the most were the puffy blue eyes.

"You are now before Her Majesty, prisoner. What do you have to say in your defense?"

Esther looked around the room for the booming voice, but saw no one. Even the two shadow figures had left. All that remained were her and the woman at her feet.

"The kind of heartbreak that love brings," Esther found herself saying aloud, as though the words would become clear to the woman in front of her.

At first it _was_ her, older maybe. Sadder. But the face transformed into something more. When Esther recognized her, she wasn't sure how she was supposed to react.

"Mother," Esther drew the word out for as long as she could, relishing in the echo it made around what she thought was to be the throne room. "Speak. For what reason should I listen to you?"

The woman said nothing. She just sat on the floor and wept.

"_I_ am the ice queen now," the girl held a hand against her chest. "You forsake the role. You abandoned me _and_ your kingdom. What say you?"

Her mother began to fade in and out, but still her crying was undeniable.

"That's enough, Esther."

The girl glanced up across the room. There was a pig in armor standing far from her. The uniform reminded her of a place she had been to long ago, where a Porcine Prince ruled. She wished to see the pig's face and, as though he could read thoughts, plucked the mask from off his head. He held it in his arms as Esther eyed him, and felt embarrassment overcome her.

"Prince Gascon," she said, even though it was Swaine in the pig's suit. "What are you doing here?"

"Not Prince Gascon," Swaine nodded and let the pig mask tumble from his grasp. It made a dull thud as it hit the ground. Then he was no longer dressed in the pig armor, but in uniform. Esther noticed that while his appearance stayed the same, his form was quite attractive. He wasn't slouching and seemed more muscular than she remembered. "I am _King_ Gascon," he corrected once he came to her side. "And you are my queen."

The confession sounded natural, much more than she had expected it to. It didn't sound strange at all. Prince Charming was a pig. He took her hand in his and turned to the former ice queen on the ground. Esther's mother was still weeping, and her face had contorted a bit.

"Talk to her," Swaine said. "Say what you need to get off your chest."

_Heartbreak._

"I'm sorry," the woman whispered before Esther could speak. Her face was still unclear, but her voice was as the girl remembered it. "Esther. I'm so, _so_ sorry. Forgive me."

The ice queen stood above her mother—whom she _believed_ was her mother—and stared at her for a long while. Swaine was still behind her, well dressed and supportive. She could feel him there. And she could see her mother's face. It was coming to life again with puffy eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and tangled hair. It felt like she had been there all along, even during Esther's darkest time.

The ice queen felt regal and proud. She could stand straight and talk pretty like she had been taught. She was shaking even though she tried to imagine it not to be so. When it seemed as though she was not going to respond, her mother hung her head. Esther dropped to her knees and flung her arms around her mother's neck. Though the woman was bound, she nuzzled her face into her daughter's shoulder.

"I'm to blame for my broken heart," Esther murmured. "The kind of heartbreak that love brings..."

The two girls remained in embrace and cried for a long time.

For the rest of the night, Esther's head was filled with dreams of her mother, and the two laughed and shared stories until the dreams were exhausted.

\/\/\/

Bleh. Gross. Lol, the last chapter will be posted some time later this week. Please don't be cruel to me.

ML


	3. The Ice Queen Defrosts into Sand

**Disclaimer: ** I WISH I owned Ni No Kuni, but...alas. Cookies.

**A/N:** It's here! It's **finally** here! I'm sorry I lied and didn't post it after the few days I said I would. Things have been rather hectic and I'm starting my last year at college (yay!) So this is the last piece, and I'm not sure where my Ni No Kuni writing is going to go next or if it will continue at all (but, hey, I've said that before and THIS is the result).

I hope you guys like the chapter and that it's not too obvious where it's going. I mean, I'm sure in soooome regards, but, hopefully not as a whole. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed (but definitely read, haha) and I'll see you around as I'm always poking around Fanficdotnet (they hate URLs XD)

Onto the reviews!

Tegan owen 10 (sorry, the dots won't show up because of the way this site is designed) – I'm glad you're liking the story and hope that this last chapter will live up to your expectations. Thank you so much for the review.

Guest – Haha, now I feel bad that I didn't create more of an interesting back story for Swaine's mystery girl, but she's good for what the story is supposed to be about. And I agree, I REALLY wanted to know more about Esther's mom. I'm disappointed that we didn't get much back story on ANY of the characters. Maybe if they make a sequel and keep the characters. Maybe **then...**

Cassa of the Fans – I'm flattered that you're reading even though Swaine/Esther isn't your preferred coupling. I hope the story still turned out all right for you and thank you again for reading. :-D

Dustpool – Thank you so much for the review and, if I must say, I'm highly anticipating your story as well. I also think that someone came up with some kind of name like Swesther or Eswaine. Or maybe even desert thief haha. Now I must go and ponder...

Titanicspaz – I'm glad you liked it and thank you so much for reviewing. I've been rather remiss in reviewing yours, but I will and I want you to know that I'm highly enjoying it and can't wait to see where you take it. (And I always love your art on Deviantart too.)

And now, for the last chapter! Hope you all enjoy!

**\/\/\/**

**Her Majesty, the Ice Queen**

**Chapter Three**

**The Ice Queen Defrosts into Sand**

**\/\/\/**

"Well, Ollie-boy, I'm not sure what to make of it meself. I wasn't expecting this, tha's for certain."

"I thought they weren't getting along, Mr. Drippy. They were arguing all day yesterday. Maybe we should've come back last night after all."

"Nonsense, mun. The two needed to talk their little squabble out, and tidy they did, too. Ah, littlies...reminds me of meself when I was young. Ta, sure does..."

Esther's eyes were stirring from behind their lids. Voices were echoing inside of her mind, one soft and the other loud. But she refused to wake right now. It was early, and the dream was still vivid in her head.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oi, youer such a buntin', buntin'. Still young, you are. Well, I guess you can't help that now, eh? Youer mam never told you that if a girl picks on ya she likes ya?"

"W-What? N-No."

"No? Shame to that, really..."

Esther's senses were coming to, and the echo from the voices were dissipating. The conversation was more than the dream that she thought she was having with her mother, but she kept her eyes closed just in case and snuggled deeper into her warm pillow.

_It sounds like Oliver and Mr. Drippy._

"So, what? You're saying they argue so much because he likes her?"

_That's definitely Oliver. What are they talking about? And why do they have to do it right above my bed?_

"'Course. And she likes him, too."

_Wait...__**Who**__ likes __**who?**_

Esther sat as still as she could for the moment, hoping that they wouldn't notice she was no longer asleep.

"Jeepers..." Oliver drew the word out for as long as he could and then sighed. "Swaine likes Esther and she likes him? So...then they fight because..."

"They _li~ke_ each other," the fairy finished. For some reason, he sounded closer to Esther's ear than before.

"_I_ _do not!_" Her eyes shot open and she sat up straight.

Oliver recoiled, and the fairy stared up at her from his place on the floor, blinking. Esther's breathing was heavy, and she chose to ignore her burning cheeks. No one said anything for a few moments, and then Drippy shifted his eyes away from her. She paused, and then followed his gaze. It was the first time she realized that something brown and fuzzy was caressing her neck. Looking beyond the mound of curls was Swaine's sleeping face, his cheek weighted on her shoulder. Her hand rested on his thigh, and his arm was around her back.

She held the air in her cheeks and wondered if she should yell or count to some high number. Before she was granted the chance, his eyes fluttered open and he pulled his head away in a sleepy daze.

"Good morning," he said with a yawn.

"Top of the mornin' to ya," Drippy saluted, and then winked at Esther.

She hung her head in shame and released herself from the hold of his arm and the blanket.

"How are things this morning?" Swaine asked, wrapping the blanket around himself. He continued to act as though nothing had happened the night before, nor that Esther had just pulled herself away in embarrassment.

"Sorry about not making it back last night..." Oliver rubbed the back of his neck. "The stuff Purrofessor Tabitha wanted to show us took longer than expected. And then it was snowing really hard and..."

"It's all right." The thief nodded and stretched. "We sort of figured that. Did she at least tell you anything valuable?"

"Just a lot about Mornstar, the Wizard King, and the nation he ruled, but nothing that we hadn't already learned."

"It was nice of her anyway, but bloody blazes..." Drippy looked to the front counter. "Did _she_ never come back, mun? There wasn't no sight of her this morning either."

"No," Esther found herself saying, but she couldn't face any of them. "She left a note saying she wouldn't be back until today. The snow must've kept her out, too."

"Jeepers..." Oliver's brows upturned and the ends of his lips fell into a frown. "I'm really sorry, you guys. I didn't mean for you to have to sleep out here."

"Nah, don't worry about it." Swaine waved him away before standing up. "It turned out all right. How about you? You get a good night's rest at least?"

"Um..." The boy turned away.

Esther's brow arched and she looked to Oliver. "What? What's wrong?"

"Ollie-boy had a proper stinker of a dream," the fairy explained. "Dreamed Alicia and Shadar were going at it, they were."

"Shadar defeated her," the boy sniffled. "And...And there was nothing I could do."

The girl placed her hand on her younger friend's shoulder. "It's all right, Oliver. It was just a dream." But her mind wandered back to her own bizarre night. While it had been comforting being able to meet her mother again in a distant way, she dared not mention that her king and husband had been the unflattering thief standing beside her now.

_How mortifying._

"She's right, Ollie-boy." Drippy crossed his arms. "And remember, it wasn't youer mam, just like I told you. It was the Great Sage Alicia."

"I know," he pulled away and Esther dropped her hand. "I'll be fine. We'll save her."

Swaine pulled the blanket up around his ears. "Great. Glad we got that cleared up. Isn't it about time to go and see the village elder now?"

"Ta, we'd best get going," Drippy smiled. "Oh, and before we left this mornin' I asked Ake, and he said that the elder's house is over by the big frozen pond on the other side of the village 'ere."

"Good, that way we won't get lost." The thief adjusted the blanket into one hand and used the other to open the door. Drippy hopped onto Oliver's shoulder and nestled under his red cape before the boy exited through the door. Esther just watched. "After _you,_ m'lady," Swaine said in the sort of voice that reminded her why he was untrustworthy.

And the sort of voice from the night before.

_"Not Prince Gascon. I am __**King**__ Gascon, and you are my queen."_

A lump caught in her throat. She averted her eyes and rushed through the snowy door as though he was going to reach out and grab her in an affectionate manner.

Esther both welcomed and abhorred the idea, but he made no such attempt.

The cold returned to her body, something she hadn't grown to miss yet. The thief kept to the back, staring at the morning villagers in the middle of their daily routines. He even waved to a child, surprising Esther the most. With her and Oliver around to cause him grief, she was certain he hated all children.

Something was wrong. Swaine was being very..._un-__**Swaine**__-like..._

"Just over the hill, mun," the fairy told Oliver from his position under the cape. He kept the fabric caressed around his face to repel the cold. "Behind a couple of igloos Ake said. Shouldn't be too hard to spot. Biggest place in the village."

Esther turned her attention away from the curly haired fool and refocused on the path in front of her. Several inches of snow had piled up since last night's storm, but the weather was calm for the moment. She hoped it would stay that way long after they had left the village and made their way up to Glittering Grotto. They passed Swift Solutions, and circled around the place that Esther had met the peddler, as well as the familiar igloo belonging to the woman that the blonde girl wouldn't mind if she never saw again.

The children were out early this morning, and Esther spotted the group from yesterday finishing their snowman. Two of them were arguing about whether to keep the newly added snow to the white statue or brush it away. Then there was the frozen pond that Drippy mentioned. The previous day she had seen two villagers ice fishing, but today there were children skating across its shiny surface.

How she envied them.

Although she was unsuccessful in getting her blizzard bloom, perhaps there would be a chance to try out some skating—_sometime,_ perhaps. She was patient enough...just not _that_ patient. Those children made it seem so easy—so much fun.

_I'm sure Mother could teach them a thing or two._

Then she paused. She found herself too attached to the dream before. Esther and her mother had had quite the bonding moment, and its effects lingered. It broke her heart to reprimand herself to shake off the dream. It was the happiest she had been in a long time, and it was painful to realize that none of it was real.

"Actually..." a voice from behind broke her thoughts. Oliver turned around too. "If you don't mind," Swaine jerked a thumb back the other way, "there's something I forgot to do. I'll catch up to you, all right?"

Esther balled her hands together and placed them on her shivering hips. The warmth from the inside of the igloo had already left her body and the cold was settling in. Her mind also hadn't eased away from the dream yet, and it left her in a bad mood. "What _kind_ of things?"

"Personal things," he smiled. "Now then, if you'll excuse me. I'll be back in a bit."

He turned and walked back in the direction of the unfavorable igloo. Something stilled in Esther's chest as his dark form grew smaller and smaller. He ascended the icy steps, rapped his knuckles on the door, then disappeared inside. Esther remained where she was for the moment, snow falling in around her shoes and causing them to become wet again.

"Whose house is that?" Oliver asked, though she didn't recognize his voice for the moment.

She took a deep breath in, closed her eyes, and pivoted around until she was facing her friends. The dream of him being her king was fading, and she wasn't sure if it was time allowing it to happen or her forcing it from her mind.

_Both of them. My mother __**and**__ Swaine. I wish I had never dreamed such a thing at all. Dreams aren't supposed to linger like this __**or**__ have lasting effects. I'm just being a child._

"What?" she asked when realizing that both were staring at her.

"That igloo," the fairy replied. "Whose place is that, mun?"

Esther shrugged, the desire to talk about it leaving her. "His girlfriend's, I guess. Come on, let's go see the elder."

She moved past them as fast as she could. Esther didn't want them to see the anger scrawled across her face or the fact that she was trying her best to blink back tears.

_What does it matter anyway? You already __**knew**__ he couldn't be trusted. It's __**your**__ fault for letting him steal your heart, too._

"Biggest igloo on the block, ei'nt it?" she heard the fairy call out. "You think it's that one? Up there?"

Esther refocused her attention on the wide ice house in front of her. It had no banner but was lit better than the rest of the little igloos scattered across the hills of the village. She straightened her back and shook the anger from her face. Oliver stepped in next to her and smiled. She tried not to look at him right away, lest he notice her displeasure and pry her about it.

"We should...knock on the door," she whispered because her voice wouldn't go any louder. When he wasn't quick enough to do it, Esther stepped up and beat the side of her fist against the ice block. "Hello?" she called in.

There was a long pause—one that made the girl fear the elder wasn't at home, but then there was shuffling in front of the door before it was pulled away. A large, fluffy tomte was revealed in its place. White, lengthy fur hung in his eyes and over his mouth, like a mustache, and was tied at the bottom with a golden bead to create a cute beard. He reached up to scratch at his head where a thick headband pulled back the rest of his fur. In his other hand was a long staff with an acorn-shaped bell decorated at the top. It made a light tinkle noise when he moved it.

"Hello?" came his deep, raspy voice. He said the word slow, and enunciated each syllable.

"Um...hello." Oliver nodded. "You're the village elder, right? We were wondering if we could speak with you."

The heavy eyebrows lifted on the tomte's face and Esther was sure she caught sight of his beady, black eyes.

"Ah, I am thinking that you are the travelers, yes? The ones wanting to to head into the Glittering Grotto?" The elder didn't wait for them to respond. He motioned for them to come inside his home. "Purrofessor Tabitha told me you would be coming."

The children padded in after him, and he closed the ice door. Esther was welcomed by warmth—even warmer than the inn had been. A large cauldron hung in the middle of the room and was hugged by a fire underneath. It was a chatty fire, she found, and it crackled and popped when she walked around it. Boxes and vases sat in each corner of the room, and a staircase ran a semi-circle around the circumference of the igloo until it stopped at the elder's bed, which was tucked away on the other side. Esther made sure to stay close to the fire for comfort. Upon peeking inside the iron pot, she was greeted with a whiff of something spicy with tomatoes. Her stomach growled and she looked away before her embarrassment was known. She was hungrier this morning because she hadn't had dinner the night before.

"Yes, sir," Oliver answered once he was inside. "Would it be all right if we went in?"

The elder took slow steps toward the cauldron and Esther moved out of his way. He picked up a wooden spoon on the table and dipped it into the soup to stir the liquid and contents together.

"It would be being all right...but the terrain to the north of here is being bitterly cold and very, _very_ snowy." The tomte glanced up and studied Oliver's attire. Then his gaze moved to Esther.

Sensing his reluctance, Drippy peered out from under the boy's cape and waved at the elder.

"Don't worry about that, mun. Kids like Ollie-boy love themselves a bit of snow, ei'nt that right?"

The tomte remained still for a while. "I see you are determined to go no matter what I am saying..." He shook his head. "Very well. I will be opening the gates for you. It is best you be going before it gets colder."

"Oh, thank you so much, mister elder, sir." Oliver bowed.

Esther turned her attention to the sound of the door. She thought that it was Swaine coming along, but the door never opened. Her mouth twisted at the end and she sighed, feeling stupid for caring so much.

_What if he doesn't come back before we decide to head out? Does that mean we're just going to leave him here?_

She bit down on her lower lip and shook her head, anger overwhelming her.

_Oh, what do __**I**__ care if he quits this journey for some stupid girl? It's nothing new about him, anyway. Just a sorry, good-for-nothing womanizer._

Esther did her best to continue to push the night before from her mind—their conversations, how he offered to share the warmth of his blanket when he didn't have to, his protective arm around her...

The dream that involved their royal matrimony...

_"I suppose I'm to blame for my broken heart. Not the kind that Shadar can create but...the kind of heartbreak that love brings..."_

She forced herself back to the matters at hand. The elder was digging into a trunk behind him, pulling out long coats with fur, pom-poms, and hoods attached.

"You would surely be dying without these..." the old tomte said and passed them off to Oliver, who handed a pink coat to Esther. "There are many who haven't been listening in the past."

"One more set, please," the boy slid his arms through the sleeves of his blue coat, while Drippy danced around in his teal one.

"Tidy, this is proper cozy, like." The fairy pulled up on the hood and hummed to himself.

Esther stared at Oliver while the elder dug around for another coat. The boy leaned over to change himself out of his loafers and into the snow boots the elder had provided. He handed another pair to her.

"What are you saying?" she asked, watching the boy as he laced the boots. "What makes you think that Swaine's coming back?"

Oliver stopped, as though he hadn't considered the question before, and stared up at her.

"Why wouldn't he? He said he was. What, did he say he wasn't coming back?"

Esther stood up straight and crossed her arms with the pink coat dangling out from between her elbow.

"N-No, I just thought...well..."

"He went to see a friend, right?" Oliver smiled. "He'll be here. He's got his own business to take care of."

"This being all right?" the elder waved a green coat at them and the boy took it from his hands.

"Yes, thank you so much."

"Oh, and these too." The tomte rummaged around inside the trunk a moment longer before presenting Oliver with three matching sets of gloves. Drippy insisted he was all right without any.

Esther took hers with a lack of enthusiasm, while the others rejoiced for their new wear. Oliver and the fairy marveled at their coats and at each other's, giggling like little girls. The young girl turned her attention to the elder and focused on his moving form. Then her eyes fell to the pink coat still in her arms. She wished it had been white, like her mother's, but pink was one of her favorite colors, and acceptable nevertheless. Still, it couldn't hurt to ask if he had a white one in place of the pink.

Then she wondered if the elder had given her mother the white coat Esther fantasized about so much.

_Come to think of it, if anyone knew my mother when she lived in Yule, it would be him. And...if that's so..._

Esther felt her arms grow hot and her cheeks flush. No doubt, the tomte would know of Gwyneira, and that thought scared her. Was her mother close? Would the elder tell Esther that the woman never wanted to see her daughter again? Could the dream that still felt so life-like in the girl's mind come true?

The moments continued to slip by, and Oliver and Drippy would want to leave soon. If possible, Esther didn't want their lingering ears.

_But more than that, I can't afford to miss this opportunity. After all, isn't this what I wanted?_

Wasn't it?

Fear couldn't be enough—she wouldn't _allow_ it to be enough. It meant too much to her to let it go now. Feeling the desire to know overtook her feet, and Esther found herself next to the distracted tomte who was still searching around in his chest. He stopped a moment when he sensed her closeness, and turned to face her.

"Yes?" he asked.

Esther refused to acknowledged that the situation had just gotten awkward, and by her own fault, of course. She had no choice now. She told herself not to run away.

"Elder..." she choked out, but the word came as a whisper. The tomte had to lean in in order to hear her next set of words. "You've..._been_ here for a long time, right? Have you ever come across a woman named Gwyneira?"

The elder stood up straight, and the fur fell across his eyes. Esther bit down on her bottom lip, wishing with all that she was that she could see them. It scared her to think she had hit another dead end.

The tomte released a giant sigh.

"I should have been being more aware of the situation. You _are_ being her daughter, yes? It is being quite clear. You look just like her."

Esther gaped, and expelled air from her mouth after. Her hands slapped against her lips to keep Oliver and Drippy from being alerted to the situation, but she couldn't stop the dam of tears that filled her eyes.

The elder nodded and shuffled closer to her.

"She was saying you would be coming to Yule someday. She was never knowing when, of course."

"So, she's here?" Esther asked, a little louder than she liked. But it didn't bother her anymore. Her friends weren't aware of the conversation, nor would she care if they had been.

Her mother was _here._

The elder lowered his head, and, for a moment, the girl caught sight of his eyes and they weren't looking into hers anymore.

"Your mother was being a restless girl. Poor Ella and Arian...I was watching them go through so much with her, yes? Always sneaking out of the village to go on adventures."

Esther paused. Ella and Arian...Those were the names of her grandparents—ones she had never gotten to know, and ones that she never would, according to her father. They had passed away quite some time ago. The girl bowed her head and tried to envision her mother's naughtiness, and her grandparents' distress over the girl.

"Gwyneira was meeting your father one day, yes? He came to Yule with others to Glittering Grotto, too. The other sages, they were being. I did not see your mother again for many, many years. Her family was being heartbroken by grief, not being the Dark Djinn. But she was coming back not long ago. Very sad she was being." The tomte lowered his head and shook it. The little bead that created his beard swung from side to side. "She was confessing to me something tragic about her daughter...About the Dark Djinn."

Esther's throat tightened and she found herself looking away as well. She hoped the elder wouldn't notice the single tear trailing down her cheek. She wanted to wipe it away, but her hands were full with the coat, boots, and gloves. She held onto them even tighter than before to compensate for the inability to hide her crying.

"She...She did?"

"Yes," the elder said. "She was being guilty of leaving her daughter behind. You must be understanding, Gwyneira's spirit is free, and no one can cage her. Her parents and your father are being very well known to that, yes? Even you, I'm afraid. But Gwyneira is not thinking until it is too late. She is feeling shame, yes? She is believing you will never forgive her."

"That's not true!" But Esther had to hold her tongue.

It _was_ true.

The elder ignored her outburst. "She is not being here in Yule any longer. She was coming to visit me quite often, but stopped one day."

The worst had come true. The coat, gloves, and boots slipped from Esther's arms and fell to the floor with a dull thud. The dream had indeed lied. And so had her heart. The girl's hands fled to her face and smoothed out across her eyes, nose, mouth, and wet cheeks. Taking in a deep breath, she told herself not to cry. Not yet.

"Where..." Esther had to stop for a moment and concentrate. When she felt ready, she tried again, "_Where_ did she go?"

The tomte placed a large hand on her shoulder. "I am...not being certain of that. She was not wanting to be followed. She..." he stopped. His fingers tightened on her small shoulder to the point where it was beginning to hurt, though she doubted he knew that. He had no idea of his own strength in comparison to something smaller. For such an old tomte, he was still strong. "She was asking that you not come find her. She told me to tell you."

Esther thought that screaming was appropriate, given the circumstances. Maybe yelling, or throwing a fit, or calling the tomte a liar. She _would have_ called him such, if Esther didn't already believe everything he was saying. If her mother hadn't left her without even so much as a word of goodbye. Esther had comprehended the situation long ago. It was where she got her adventurous instinct, after all.

She really _was_ her mother's daughter.

And since she could do none of the above, she gave into crying. She fell into the elder's pillow-like body and he held her while she wept. Oliver and Drippy were by her side, much to her chagrin, asking the obvious of 'was there something wrong?' and, 'what can we do to help?'

_Nothing,_ she choked on her tears. _No one can do...anything._

"One day," Esther heard the rumble of the tomte's chest as he spoke, "she will be thinking back on this. She will be wishing to see you again, but will not know how. This...she must be living with for the rest of her life."

_And that's still not long enough, _Esther thought, filled with more bitterness than even her father had known.

She _was_ the ice queen after all.

And so was her mother.

Esther stayed in the tomte's comforting embrace for a while longer before pulling herself together. She apologized for her breakdown and changed into her winter garb. Drippy and Oliver did the rather large favor of not asking her what was wrong, and, in return, she promised she would tell them when she was ready.

Drippy was always good at ignoring painful situations, anyhow, as he had demonstrated with the death of Hamelin's emperor and Swaine's father.

"'ight! I wish we had this yesterday trekking in the snow and ice. Proper pain that was." The fairy gave one last twirl in his coat.

"Thank you again, mister elder, sir." Oliver picked up his boots and stuffed them into his bag. Esther could tell he was doing his best to avoid her gaze.

The girl filled her own bag with her change of shoes and murmured, "Yes, thank you."

"You are being careful now." The elder shook his staff at them, but it wasn't out of anger or annoyance.

"Of course." The boy nodded before making his way to the door.

Esther gave a half wave to the tomte and Drippy skipped away long after the other boy was in the snow.

"I will be letting her know your disappointment if she is ever coming back, yes?" the tomte told her. "So, until then, stay safe. It was being a pleasure to know Gwyneira's daughter, Esther."

"Thank you," she whispered, trying hard not to let the tears flow again. Esther made a quick exit and rubbed her hand against her face.

"Ollie-boy, look," the fairy plopped into the snow. "Snow figures, 'ight?" The tiny creature moved his stumpy arms and legs back and forth. Esther watched from behind and somehow had the care to find the antic comical while the bulbous shape in the snow continued to flop about.

"Snow angels," Oliver smiled. "At least...that's what we call them back home."

Drippy studied his shape for a bit longer. "Ta, now that you mention it, they sort of do look like angels, eh? Fancy that. Look at all the great things we can do now that we've ouerselves some proper clothes."

"Oi!"

Esther turned and looked away as soon as she recognized the man approaching. Coming up the hill was none other than Swaine, smiling and carrying something lumpy underneath his blanket. Oliver laughed and waved at him.

"We have a present for you," the young wizard announced before presenting the thief with the coat, gloves, and boots.

"Splendid, the elder give these to you, did he?" Swaine smiled. "Well, I have something for you, too. I thought maybe we could try them out before we went to Glittering Grotto. We haven't exactly had much time for fun on this journey and being a few minutes delayed won't hurt us."

"Speak for yourself," Esther snapped and focused her attention on him. "While _you_ were having fun at your girlfriend's, Oliver and I got permission to enter the Glittering Grotto, _and_ warmer clothes so we don't freeze to death. So, whatever it is you want to do, _do_ it on your own—or with that girlfriend of yours who doesn't see you for who you _really _are."

Oliver and Drippy went quiet—Oliver still holding the winter clothes in his arms—but it was Swaine's face that stuck with Esther the most. He didn't argue, didn't roll his eyes, and didn't offer his usual exasperated sigh. Instead, he let whatever it was that he had been holding fall from underneath his blanket and stood there with the saddest look that Esther could only compare to when his father had died. The girl regretted her sudden harsh words, and damned her brashness and the mood that her mother had put her in. Even though the woman wasn't around—far _from_ Yule it seemed—she still held the power to ruin Esther. She could even sneak into the girl's dreams and crush her from within. That was something Esther knew she had to deal with alone and concerned none of her friends.

Allowing her eyes to drop, she spied a glint of metal out from underneath the thief's blanket. There was also a lace, and the heel of a shoe.

Esther held her breath.

_Oh...those are ice skates._

Swaine had remembered their talk. The foolishness spread across her face and she whirled away from them and took several steps in the opposite direction.

"Neato!" Oliver's voice echoed in her ears and Esther released the air she had been holding in her lungs. "Those are ice skates. Where did you get those?"

"From my _girlfriend,_" came the snarky reply.

Esther felt something stab her in the chest and twist several times. It was a far different feeling than the pain she felt from her mother's betrayal. She convinced herself she deserved it—she really _did._

"Tidy, I haven't been ice skating since my days of traveling with Alicia. These are a beaut."

"I wanna go skating," Oliver said. "Let's do it, Swaine. Here, change into these really quick. You can put your blanket in my pack if you don't have room."

"I think I can manage, thank you enough." The thief laughed. "Green, eh? My favorite color. At least it's not orange or yellow. Don't want to go around looking like a flipping babana."

Esther kept her eyes on the igloos in front of her, finding she had no courage to face the trio at that moment, or any moment in the near future.

_Me and my big mouth. I'm always saying stupid things. And here he was trying to be nice and do something he knew I wanted to do. I don't think I can say anything now. Stupid, stupid, __**stupid...**_

__"Esther, aren't you going to come get your skates? There's a pair here for you," she heard the younger boy call out. She cringed.

_Why is he talking to me? Can't he see I'm wallowing in shame here? After the big fit I threw at the elder's and now here? How can they __**stand**__ to be around me?_

But she turned around without a word, hung her head, and shuffled back to the group without looking at any of them.

"So, where are we going to go skating?" Oliver asked. "The frozen pond here is in use already."

"Lysa said there's a bigger one outside of town." Swaine was hunched over lacing up his boots. He had already changed into the green coat and gloves. "It's not usually crowded since the children aren't allowed out by themselves. But it should be fine for what we're doing."

"Lysa, huh?" The fairy chuckled. "She has a pretty name."

"Indeed she does." The thief stood back up and Esther could feel his eyes on her, even though she was staring at his feet.

She didn't want to make any sudden movements. There was a lone pair of skates by him, but she was too scared to reach for them. Esther contemplated asking Oliver to grab them for her.

"Feeling stupid, are we?" Swaine asked.

She looked up at his smiling face. It made her less confident to reply. She could only manage a nod, then bent down to snatch the skates up before turning away.

"Nothing else to say, eh?" he asked.

Esther hated being on the spot, and even more so when she knew that she was in the wrong. She clutched the skates to her chest and muttered, "Sorry...and thank you."

She heard him laugh as she moved away.

The group made their way through the village exit, Drippy holding the skates over his head while the others carried them under their arms. The fairy was talking about his first time skating—not in Yule, per se, but on one of the islands. Oliver confessed to skating once and only once.

"I twisted my ankle." He flushed. "Phil made fun of me for weeks after that."

Esther kept in the back of everyone else, and hoped that no one would call on her to speak again. She held the skates close, still berating herself for her cruel words earlier. Swaine acted as though he had forgotten all about it, and was joining in on the laughter between the boy wizard and fairy. Esther wondered how he had gotten a hold of the skates—if Lysa indeed gave them to him, or if he had performed a small _favor_ for her. But if that had been so, why wasn't she here now?

It seemed that all those she cared most about were letting her down.

But at least she was going to skate. That was something she wanted more than anything.

"There's the pond," the thief nodded down the hill.

An icy surface glimmered against the light that was made through the clouds in the sky. It was vacant just as promised. It was also much larger than the one in the village, which meant more room for skating.

"Oi! Last one to the bottom is a rotten babana," the fairy took off before his words were finished, and Oliver followed after.

"I'll bet you lot don't even know how to strap on skates," Swaine challenged, but he was slower in making it down the hill.

Esther grimaced, wondering if the comment was somehow directed at her because she, in fact, hadn't the first inclination of what she was doing. Since Oliver and Drippy had both skated before, it was less plausible that he would be talking to them.

"And I imagine _you_ do?" she found herself muttering to Swaine.

He turned to stare at her, and she damned her hot temper again.

"As a matter of fact, I _do,_" he said in a low voice.

He turned to follow the boys down the hill. Both had flung off their boots and were lacing up their skates without any problems. Esther tromped down after them, being sure to stay at least ten or so paces behind Swaine. She was certain he had had enough of her bratty behavior for the day, and she couldn't blame him. If she had been anyone else looking in on the situation, _she_ would have been tired, too.

Drippy finished first, his skates only having a buckle instead of the long laces, and he was out on the ice casting taunts at Oliver for being so slow. The boy's laughter was nervous and Esther wondered if he was thinking back to the time he had injured himself. Still, he wobbled out onto the ice after the fairy, and took his first fall like a man.

"Keep your knees bent, Oliver," Swaine called out to the boy, who was picking himself up from off the ice.

"Roger..." Oliver was cautious to stand up again, and Drippy made circles around him.

Swaine seated himself in the snow and placed his boots beside his feet. He stepped into each skate, and laced them up without trouble. Esther studied his finger movements and how he looped the string through each hole, then pulled up on the slack after.

_For someone who has never been to Yule, he sure knows his way around with tying skates._

The scruffy man finished with a double knot and tucked the remaining lace into the tongue of his skates. Then he stood up, hopped onto the ice, and made a deft swivel to face Esther.

"Not coming?" he asked her, though his tone was quiet indifferent.

"I-In a minute," she replied, setting her stuff down next to his boots.

He shrugged and glided over to Oliver, who was starting to get the hang of skating. She heard both the fairy and older man give him pointers while she slipped the boots from her feet. Esther began with her right foot, making clumsy movements with the string in her hands. She pulled each end through opposite holes, made sure that the lace was even on each side, and then stuck them through the next diagonal holes. Her mind reeled in reverse, remembering how Swaine had tied his, but about half way up she realized that she didn't have enough string to knot it off.

Esther removed the string from all of the holes and started over, giving a heavy sigh. She pushed it through again, checked to make sure it was even, pulled up on the slack, and continued lacing the skate.

_**Why**__ can't I tie something as stupid as skates? _She growled to herself. _Everyone else could do it. I mean, I can even fasten my own sandals in the desert. I guess they're a little different than this. I've never worn boots or skates, but this is so __**easy.**__ Mother could do it, right? She was so adept at it. How can dumb Swaine do it, but I can't?_

By the time she finished, Esther's laces were lopsided and two holes short from the top. She sighed again and started over for a third time. She didn't get far before deciding to try her left foot, but the string felt shorter than it did with the right foot.

_Why can't my skates have buckles like Drippy's? Why is this so difficult? How embarrassing..._

"Aren't you coming, Esther?" Oliver called out.

She stared up at him, the fairy and thief close in behind him. Even the young boy seemed to be getting along better at skating.

"Um..." She gave a dry laugh and shrugged off her misfortune. "I-I don't feel like skating, actually. I think I'm just going to watch you guys from here."

Swaine cocked his head and placed his hands on his hips.

"Gee, that's too bad..." Oliver frowned. "We'd really like for you to join us. We don't know when the next time will be that we get to do this."

She knew this, and the thought disturbed her. More than anything she wanted to skate. She wanted to know if it felt the way her mother described it. What kind of ice queen couldn't skate, much less tie skates?

"No, it's okay. I hate skating anyway."

"For the love of all that is holy..." Swaine glided toward the blonde girl and gave a perfect stop in front of her. Esther was impressed by the movement. "You're just being bloody stubborn."

He knelt down, swatted her hands away, and laced her skates without trouble. Esther was caught somewhere between awe and shame, but she couldn't stop herself from watching how easy it was for him to push the string through, tighten the slack, and finish with a nice big bow on each skate.

"There now," he rubbed his hands together, as if dusting off something imaginary. "Come off it. _You_ don't want to skate? You'd rather lie than ask for help?"

"I...I..." The heat hit her cheeks and she looked away. "That's not it."

"Then what?"

Esther pushed herself up from the snow and took a step forward. Her ankle gave way and she lost balance. Swaine steadied her with a hand to her shoulder and pushed her back. When she regained composure, he removed his hold on her.

"It's not _like_ a shoe, Esther. It's a _skate_ and one that can hurt you if you don't remember that. Walk with a little more dignity. Come on, now."

"Easy for _you_ to say." She narrowed her eyes. "How is it you're good at skating if you've never done it before?"

"I never said I haven't skated before. I said I've never been to _Yule_ before. Big difference." Before she had the chance to respond he was back out on the ice. "Hurry up. Chop, chop."

"Quit rushing me," she snapped, holding her arms out to help keep her balance.

She stuck one foot out as careful as she could, then placed her weight on it. Then she did the same with the other. The next step was the challenge because it would put her out on the ice. Esther took a death breath and made the movement with slow and meticulous caution. She held that same breath and tried to push images of her falling and hurting herself as well as her pride from her mind. She tried to imagine the grace of her mother and how she must've looked while skating. Never mind that Esther was beyond angry with her, Gwyneira's skating was something of a marvel.

The girl's foot didn't stay in one spot like she had anticipated, however, and slid forward.

Esther shrieked and lifted her back foot up to keep from tumbling over. There she was, leaning over her front foot with her back leg lifted into the air. She waved her arms, trying to find some kind of balance that would allow herself to place her leg back down.

"That's it, Esther," the fairy cheered. "Just keep youerself forward and youell be golden."

But she didn't _feel_ golden. Quite the contrary, really. And her ankle was hurting from keeping the position so long. Her mother would laugh at her if she were here now. Esther was rather glad she wasn't. The girl wasn't feeling much like a queen as much as she was the court fool. Until she could skate like her mother, perhaps she wouldn't be the ice queen after all.

Oliver clapped as she found herself turning—an action she hadn't committed herself to—and was heading straight for the young boy.

"You're skating, Esther." He laughed, unaware that she couldn't control herself, and her frantic flailing meant that she was waving back at him in his mind.

She screamed and crashed into Oliver, and the two toppled to the ground. They collided elbows, and her forehead smacked against his. Her knee hit the ice square enough and pain surged through her leg. The two lay in a crumpled heap and she listened to Oliver's whimpering and "ows."

"Oh, the lot of you are nothing but trouble." Swaine came up from behind and pulled Oliver up with one arm and Esther up with the other. "There, now you've fallen. Nothing to it."

But Oliver was rubbing his head and looked less than okay. Esther held her injured elbow with one hand and used the other to caress her knee.

"There, buntin', nothing but skinned knees and elbows." The fairy looked up at him, but the boy's face was still hidden in the crook of his arm.

Whirling around, Esther did the best she could to skate off the ice, feeling foolish and angry. The hot tears were brimming in her eyes, but she couldn't afford to let her friends see. Images of her mother mocking her were vivid and the sting that came with them was true enough. Her mother had no qualms about leaving Yule so that she didn't have to see Esther. But how would she know?

And then it all made sense.

Esther didn't know how it hit her, or what connected the pieces, but it all made sense.

No doubt, the Grimalkins weren't the _only_ ones to know of Oliver's adventures and the companions he traveled with. Her mother knew she was amongst them and was coming to Yule, too.

_That _was why she left the village.

The thought made the girl want to flee even faster.

And the fact that she had made herself look even more foolish in front of Swaine—the one man she had never wanted to see her at her weakest—made things worse. She had confided in him about her mother and the sensitivity of the issue, but it felt justified now that she knew he was a prince.

But failing at skating? _That_ was different.

At the moment she wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

"Oh, come on, Esther," Drippy called after her. "Everyone falls, even buntin' here, you see? Aw, don't be that way."

But Esther wouldn't slow down. She would rather sit alone or hide at this point. She wanted to leave Yule and never come back.

"Don't go," she heard Oliver's voice. "I'm all right. It was just a little bump, that's all. Please come back and skate with us."

"I don't think so." A hand cupped her arm and whirled her around. The girl was staring into the irritated eyes of Swaine, but he was focused elsewhere. The man placed her hands on his arms and his on her shoulders. "You wanted to skate. You're skating, Now..." in the midst of his actions, the hood had fallen from his face, and his smashed curls resurfaced. If Esther hadn't felt so miserable at the moment, she thought she might laugh at the lopsided hairstyle, "...I'm going to teach you to skate, so no funny business, got it?"  
Once she found her center, she nodded, but kept her eyes on the ground.

"Look at me," he commanded, voice stern. Esther jolted at the tone and obeyed. "When you're ready, push off on your right foot."

"But what about you?" She gestured to the fact that he was facing her. "Surely you don't plan to skate backward?"

"I do, and don't worry about me. You ready? Push off on your right foot, lean forward a bit, and bend your knees."

He pulled on her shoulders and she did as she was instructed. It was difficult to get used to the idea that skating was not walking it was—

"Glide," Swaine finished her thought. "Don't walk. Glide. Hold your foot there for as long as possible before pushing off of your left foot."

She did. Her ankles wobbled again, but he was there to keep her upright. She watched in awe as he skated backward on the ice and guided their movements even though he couldn't see what was going on. Esther found herself fascinated, and tripped.

"_Don't_ watch me," he scolded and caught her in his arms. "Concentrate on yourself. Push off your right foot again." He stepped back, positioned her, and waited for her to start.

From out of the corner of Esther's eye she saw Drippy giving Oliver instruction. It looked a little funnier taking lessons from a fairy a foot and a half tall. The boy waved his arms like a windmill before giving another face-plant into the ice.

"Not _again,_ buntin'. Look, get up and try it from _this _side, a'ight?"

"Don't let them distract you," Swaine's voice cut in. "You're starting to slow down. Unless you want to end up like Oliver, keep the pace."

She swallowed and nodded.

_Left...Right...Left...Right...Left..._

They circled around the outer edge of the pond several times. Oliver had fallen twice in between that time, and was complaining of a sore bottom.

"Good," Swaine's voice softened, as did his face. Esther allowed herself to laugh.

And it felt good, as though the negativity of the situation had finally left.

"I'm really skating..." She stared down at her feet at work in rhythmic motion. After a moment, she found that she didn't have to focus quite so hard on how she skated.

It was becoming easier to imagine herself in her mother's place.

"That's right." Then his grip on her shoulders loosened. "All right, Esther, I'm going to let go and watch you without my help."

She almost lost her footing and her grip on his arms locked like pincers.

"_No!_" Her reaction startled him, but he managed to maintain his balance. "Can't we keep going like this?"

He quirked an eyebrow and shook his head. "You'll never learn if I'm just pulling you along. Look, I'll stay here in front of you and prepare if you fall. Fair enough?"

They were coming up on the corner where Drippy and Oliver were. The young wizard was getting into a groove similar to Esther's, thanks to the fairy, and she didn't want to crash right in front of them. But Swaine looked serious, so her choices were limited.

With great reluctance, she said, "...All right."

"'Atta girl," he smiled. "Now, I'm going to let go on the count of three, okay?" She nodded, but the confidence was no longer apparent. "One...two..." the grip on his coat sleeves loosened, "...three."

She dropped her arms, but her skates clanked against the ice. As promised, Swaine kept his arms up to catch her in case she fell, and still managed to skate backward. It was enviable, yet annoying. _She_ wanted to be able to do that, too. She propelled her arms to keep from falling, and screamed.

"Keep gliding, Esther," his voice came over her shouts. "Keep your knees bent."

_Right, right...I __**can**__ do this...__**Really, **__I can...If Mother and Swaine can, then so can I..._

Then a thought occurred to her. It was cruel and mean, but it _might_ have been the only thing to keep her from falling. She bent forward, gained speed, and thought about tackling Swaine to the ground.

_Sorry, Swaine. I know you only want to help me, but I can't skate unless I do this. I need to concentrate on something other than skating to get the hang of it._

She chuckled a bit at the idea of how natural it came to her to torment the man. It relaxed her fears of falling.

"Wait, not _that_ fast. S-Slow down, Esther." Swaine was picking up speed, but his arms dropped, and he was looking over his shoulder.

_I think I'm getting the hang of this._

Esther's strides were getting shorter, but her pace quickened more than Swaine was able to deter. Realizing that he could only go so fast backward, the thief swiveled his foot and turned forward.

"Are you _mad?_" he called over his shoulder. "What do you think you're _doing?_"

"Learning how to skate," she answered. It wasn't antagonistic or maniacal—after all, it consisted of their usual daily banter—but her tone was apologetic, and after a while, she realized that she _couldn't _slow down.

"You're a _crazy woman, _you got that? _Crazy!_"

Esther squeezed her eyes shut. "Make it _stop!_"

Swaine turned around long enough to watch the girl smash into him, sending the two to the ground. His back hit the surface, and she landed on his front. He slid across the ice for a ways before his body spun into a half circle and the two lay there, each in their own form of pain.

"Gah...dammit." The thief's hands fled to his head. "_Dammit, _woman, what is _wrong_ with you?"

"I'm sorry," she looked up at him from her position on his chest. "I couldn't stop."

"Well, injuring _me_ isn't going to help you learn how to skate any better." He sat up, causing Esther to slide off of him.

"Are you guys all right?" Oliver and the fairy skated over to the injured duo.

"Fine, fine." But Swaine was still clutching the back of his head. "Just trying not to get killed by my student."

Drippy was chuckling to himself and Esther sat back on her knees. Swaine stumbled to his feet, and when he felt like he could, reached down to help her up.

"All right, I'm going to sit out," Swaine announced.

"No, no!" Esther took his arm. "I'll try harder, Swaine. Please don't quit."

He eyed her with suspicion. "You promise?"

"Yes."

"No more knocking me over?"

"No more."

The thief took a while to consider the proposal before shaking his head, his curls swinging around his face.

"I can't believe I'm doing this. I try to be a nice guy and _this_ is what I get." His hands fell to his side and he nodded out to the ice. "Start gliding. I'll catch up."

Esther beamed. "Thank you." She did as she was told and took off on the ice, keeping her eyes focused in front of her.

_Left...Right...Left...Right..._

Just as he said he would, Swaine swooped in front to her. He made a small half circle and held his hands up to prevent her from falling.

"I mean it..." he warned. "No pushing me down."

"I won't."

He frowned, his eyes colored with skepticism. Still, the two kept at it for several circles around the pond while Oliver and Drippy remained in the center. The young wizard was doing much better now. Drippy had stopped teaching him and was doing his own fancy spins on the ice. Esther found that she was able to look away from her feet for a few seconds to other things like Oliver, Drippy, and, sometimes, even Swaine. His arms dropped after some time, though he continued to face her while skating backward. The tension in his eyes and mouth dissipated and, for the first time, Swaine appeared to be enjoying himself. As he loosened up, Esther found that she could do the same thing.

"Thank you," she blurted out.

Swaine broke out of the daydream he seemed to be in and focused his eyes on the girl in front of him. "What's that?"

"For..." she did her best to gesture to their surroundings, "_...this._ All of it. I didn't think you'd remember me saying anything last night."

"I pay attention more than you think."

"So I've noticed." She gave him a mischievous smile. "I can't believe you know how to skate. I'm embarrassed, really..."

"Why? Because I'm teaching you and I'm actually _good_ at something?"

"Besides stealing?"

Swaine gave her a disapproving stare and rolled his eyes.

"I'm exhausted trying to prove anything to you. I'm sure you think I stole the skates, don't you?"

"I had my suspicions."

He threw his arms up and skated to the side of her. "I give up. _Nothing_ I do is going to prove otherwise, _is_ it?"

Esther reached up to pinch his arm. "That's not true."

"Then what?"

She made sure that she was balanced enough before taking a long look at him and replying, "Making my dream a reality. Getting us all to go ice skating. Thank you."

Swaine rolled his eyes again, but this time there was a playful twinkle in them rather than the agitation she had caused him. He skated around behind her and came up from the other side. Oliver was gliding opposite to them and Drippy was tagging along after.

"I knew how much it meant to you. I knew how much closer this would bring you to your mother."

Esther pulled her lips together in a tight line. "She was here, you know. In Yule."

"Oh?" his voice held genuine disbelief. "How long ago?"

"A couple of weeks? Maybe? It took me a long time to realize that the one person who would know my mother was the one person we needed to talk to anyway."

"Ah, the elder. I'm surprised none of us thought of that before. Where is she now?"

The girl took a moment to breathe in before answering. How was she to say that the ice queen of Yule had caught wind of her daughter's arrival and fled? The same woman who had apparent guilt over abandoning her child, yet, asked the village elder to tell her not to follow after? How was she to explain that?

It somehow came easier to tell Swaine than it had been the others.

"She found out we were coming." Esther shrugged. "The Grimalkin news, remember that from yesterday? It labels all of us. I hadn't thought of that before. I'm sure she saw my father's name and put two and two together. She didn't even tell the elder she was leaving."

Swaine remained quiet and the two skated around the rim of the pond several times. She wondered if he was even paying attention anymore, and felt a little let down that he hadn't commented on something so fragile. Though she felt disappointed, she thought it best to let the conversation drop anyway, lest she start crying or feel sorry for herself again.

But when she looked over at him, she saw something in his eyes that was unfamiliar and dark. His lips were twitching and lines had formed under his narrowed eyes.

"Swaine?" she asked, quiet at first.

"What an evil old _hag,_" he said after a moment. "Ice queen you called her yesterday? More like an ice witch. I don't know about you, Esther, but she'd better hope to never cross paths with _me._ How _dare_ she abandon her child, and then when you go _looking_ for her, the bitter hag flees the village with her sorry tail tucked 'neath her legs. I know you miss her, Esther, but I'd say you're better off. For someone who can do that..." Swaine shook his head. "...good riddance."

"I know..." she mumbled, dropping her eyes from him. "But when I see Myrtle's mother—_my_ mother...it gives me hope that she isn't this terrible person."

Another hand found Esther's, and she glanced down to see that the thief had taken it. Staring up at him, he squeezed his fingers against her own and gave her a hard look.

"Betty _isn't_ your mother, Esther, and it's best you stop wishing for it to be so. You have a father who loves you equally as much, and for that, I'd say to _hell_ with your ice queen. She doesn't deserve your forgiveness _or_ your time. And when she realizes what she's done, she'll come back. It may take years, but she'll come back. Meanwhile, you need to stop beating yourself up over this. Her leaving _isn't_ your fault, got it?"

He waited until she nodded and looked away from him. She didn't believe him, but it gave her butterflies that he cared so much after all.

The moment she looked past his faults, she realized he was a man, and one who paid more attention to her needs than her mother ever had. The cold was beginning to feel warmer and smiling came easier now.

Esther found ice skating to be a bit easier as well. "So how _did_ you learn to skate if you've never been to Yule before?"

"Um..." the topic and atmosphere change caught him off guard. "Observation," he answered after a pause.

"Observation?"

"Yes."

"...Care to elaborate?"

He shot her an awkward stare. "You're not the only one who was fascinated by picture books. The princes in Hamelin were, too."

Esther rolled her eyes, but didn't let him see her do it. She hadn't meant to bring up the thief's past—not only because he hated talking about it, but because he was never honest when doing so. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together—that _he_ and Marcassin studied picture books as children—but she told herself in the beginning that she would never pry about his past, and she didn't intend to break her promise now.

After all, _he_ had listened to her complaints about her mother the night before, and was consoling her about the woman's absence now.

"Is that right?" was all she said.

"Yes," he nodded. "But they knew that they were never going to make it to Yule. That was a trip reserved for knights and the emperor alone. That didn't stop the princes, however, and with Gascon's brilliant mind and Marcassin's ability to use magic, they made their _own_ frozen pond."

_Brilliant mind..._

Esther tried to repress a laugh and snorted instead.

Swaine narrowed his eyes. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she waved him away. "Please continue."

He remained suspicious for a moment, but resumed anyway. "The brothers got the idea to turn their courtyard into a frozen pond—it was the only place big enough, anyway. Gascon filled every corner with water from the fountains, and Marcassin used magic to transform the water into ice." He paused for a moment and then burst out laughing, remembering something that Esther couldn't possibly know. "They...They first tried skating with just their shoes, but that ended up bloody horrible and they had bruises on their bums for days."

The image earned a chuckle from the girl who could imagine it as Swaine being in the party rather than heroic, handsome Gascon—despite the fact that they were one and the same. It came easier to think of older, cranky Swaine in any crazy circumstance.

"Oh, you think that's funny, eh?" Swaine nudged her a bit with his elbow but not enough to cause her to fall or to break the lock his fingers hand on hers. He held her hand tighter. "Gascon learned how to build skates by studying those same picture books and soon enough they were skating like the villagers in Yule were. They practiced every night when those in the palace were fast asleep until they were caught...which wasn't for about a year or so. Give or take."

"Caught? Caught by whom?"

Swaine blew air through his lips. "The emperor."

Esther looked up at him, but the thief's expression was unchanging. "He had heard the rumors of activity going on at night and decided to investigate himself. When he found out about the frozen pond, he became furious at Gascon for allowing such a dangerous activity to transpire, but..." Swaine trailed off.

Esther waited for him to continue, but when it took him longer than she hoped, she shook his arm. "What? But _what?_"

His smile disappeared. "He discovered Marcassin's potential for magic and began to look to _him_ as the new heir of Hamelin. Marcassin...he _knew_ what that meant, and so he pretended that he couldn't cast magic anymore. They never skated in the courtyard again after that."

Esther's mouth closed and she felt uncomfortable. She wanted to say something, offer her condolences to _him,_ not _Gascon,_ but as long as Swaine pretended that he wasn't the former prince, she could say nothing.

_Oh, Swaine...That must have been so hard for you._

But instead she asked, "So, where did you get these skates?"

He seemed to appreciate the topic change. The thief leaned forward and said as slow as possible, "From my _girlfriend._" Esther frowned. "All right, don't get your knickers all bunched up." Swaine unlocked his fingers from hers and reached up to pull on her tiny nose. It stung a bit and prompted a "Hey!" from her. "Yesterday while I was at Lysa's I noticed a few things around her place. First, I asked her for a blanket. She didn't appear keen on just _handing_ anything over, so she made a catch."

Esther tried not to jump to immediate conclusions, but it was hard. "What _sort_ of _catch?_"

Swaine ignored her skepticism. "She wanted to try foods from all the different places she had never been...which, of course, was everywhere. I traded her some Al Mamoon babanas for the blanket. After our talk last night at the inn I went back and asked if she had any skates. I guess her family used to go out to the ponds a long time ago, but she never liked it. So I traded her some bumbler honey from Ding Dong Dell for them."

Esther laughed, realizing her mistrust was doing nothing but getting her into trouble. She tried to brush it off, but she was sure the thief noticed.

"Honey for skates?" she asked. "Sounds a bit like she didn't get a very good trade."

"Ah, but I didn't get to the part where all of the skates were too old for wear and _I _had to fix them."

The girl's eyes widened and he circled around her, but was careful enough not to distract her so that she fell. "R-Really?"

_Just like how he made his and Marcassin's..._

"It's true. I even used an old piece to make Drippy's pair." They both glanced over to the fairy, who was making figure eights across the surface of the ice. "That's not all I traded from her, though." Swaine reached into his coat pocket, fished something out that Esther couldn't see, and skated in front of her again as he had done when he first gave her lessons. The transition was flawless as he moved and never had to stop skating. "I traded her some black truffles from Hamelin."

Esther held back, lest she crash into him again. "Traded them for what?"

With one swift movement, he brought his hand up to her head, placed something cold on top of her ear. He fit it in between several strands of her hair before moving his arm back to his side. The desert girl stopped gliding and let her feet continue along the ice with the momentum she had already created. Swaine did the same and remained in front of her while she inspected the object in her hair. She couldn't feel it with gloved hands, but it chilled the top of her ear. She tapped it a couple of times before Swaine stopped her.

"Don't go breaking it now. It was hard for me to get a hold of. Lysa didn't want to part with it."

And then it made sense.

"A blizzard bloom?" she whispered. He nodded. "You got me a...bli—" she couldn't make it through her sentence before her eyes watered again. Esther dropped her eyes before Swaine could see. By then, the two of them had slowed to a stop and he leaned forward to see her face.

"Oi," he shook her by the shoulder. "It wasn't supposed to make you _cry._ Don't do _that._"

She threw herself into his chest, half to rub her moist eyes against his coat in order to keep tears from spilling over and half out of pure appreciation. Esther's arms around him tightened and she felt his arms reach around her. They stood there for a moment, locked in embrace, listening to the sounds of their friends playing on the ice.

"Thank you," she murmured, her words becoming absorbed into his coat, "_so much._"

He leaned over her and his voice grew quiet. "You know that if I could, I would've brought you your mother. You know that, right? If the circumstances were better and she was a better person, I would've done it all for you. But I'm not Oliver. I can't give people back their missing pieces of heart. I can only help to mend it."

"I know that." She sniffled. "Really, I do. I'm so sorry for the past few days. I didn't mean any of it."

She felt him kiss the top of her head, but it didn't register in her mind at first.

"Then...am I finally getting the message across to you? Do you understand now?"

Esther looked up to meet his gaze. It was one of the soft, rare smiles that he showed only to certain people. She was grateful she had become one of them. It suited him and she wanted to tell him to smile more.

_He made skates for us, gave me a blizzard bloom, and allowed us a day to play in the snow. He's helped me through this situation with my mother and hasn't asked for a thing in return. I'm not sure what to say. I've been so horrible to him lately._

Swaine was leaning in closer to her, and Esther opened her mouth to answer his question. Something white smashed into the side of his face, causing him to push her away and double over. She composed herself, focusing her attention on the blizzard bloom and the desire to _not_ break it after having just received it. Swaine, on the other hand, was cleaning snow out of his hair and from the inside of his jacket.

"Cold, cold, cold..." he muttered over and over.

"Nice shot, Ollie-boy!" The fairy jumped onto the boy's shoulder and the two gave a fierce high-five. "Guess all that magic practicing has perfected youer aim. Tidy."

Oliver was too busy laughing to see the whirl of snowballs hit him back to back. Drippy went sailing through the air while the boy lost his balance and toppled to the ground. Swaine stood there, his gun in hand, and loaded another snowball into it.

"_Another_ invention I perfected in youth." He grinned. "Marcassin tried the same exact thing. All you wizards are the same."

Esther watched the snowball blowout commence and giggled. Swaine had admitted to his past without knowing it. It was a good sign.

_I'm not the only one who needs to come to terms with their past. He needs it more than ever._

"Crikey, there's _cheatin'._" Drippy hopped away but it was difficult to do on ice. Even his ice twirls weren't enough to save him from Swaine's precise aim.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Oliver waved his arms around, eyes blinded with snow. "That gun really hurts, Swaine."

Esther glanced over to the snow lining the outer frame of the pond. As quiet as she could be, she skated over to the side, grabbed a handful of snow, and summoned her Drongo.

"Gogo," she whispered to the familiar. "Throw these at Swaine."

The bird squawked and she put a hand up against its bill.

"_Quiet,_" she mouthed. Then she placed the snowballs in each of its wings.

The bird bellyflopped and glided across the ice, beady eyes on Swaine. Then it pelted the man with the snowballs and moved away.

"What the _blazes?_" his arms fled to this head in a protective manner and shook the snow from his hair. Whirling around he caught sight of the Drongo gliding around on its front, still squawking and making circles around him. "Esther, I thought you were on _my_ side!"

"_I_ didn't throw the snowballs at you." She held her hands up. "Gogo did."

"Oh, sure, like _hell_ he acted on his own. I'm gonna get you for this."

The man loaded more snow into his gun, but was delayed by the onslaught of snowballs coming from Oliver and Drippy on the other side of the pond. Esther kept to the back while her familiar plowed into Swaine from behind. He fell on top of the familiar, who squawked in fury, and Swaine shot off his snow gun into the air by mistake. Snow hailed down on top of the two, and Oliver and Drippy circled in around them.

Esther watched them all at play, taking a moment for herself before setting her blizzard bloom into the snow and participating in the action.

The desert girl realized that she didn't want to be the ice queen anymore. She wasn't from Yule, she was from Al Mamoon, where her father lived and was currently fighting Shadar. Her mother had run away. She wasn't heartbroken; she had _always_ been this way. Her father never abandoned her, even when abandoning himself. It was more than she could say for Gwyneira, the bitter, cold, cruel ice queen of Yule. It gave Esther a lot to think about. She wasn't sure if she would ever be prepared for her mother to return, and agreed with others that it _would_ happen.

She didn't want it to.

But if it did, she wanted her friends there beside her—wanted Swaine there most of all. And even if the idea was too romantic, she wondered if her dream would come to pass after all. She wondered if it would play out in the same way, except that Esther would now be the desert queen instead of the ice queen, and Swaine her porcine king. Her mother would beg for forgiveness as she had before, but the girl wondered if she would be ready to hand it to her. Would Swaine tell her to forgive her like in the dream, or would his threats come to pass as he had voiced earlier while skating?

Esther didn't want to think about any of that right now. She was the desert princess again, and she was ice skating, had a blizzard bloom, and was spending a journey with the people she cared about the most.

_"Am I finally getting the message across to you? Do you understand now?"_

"Yes, Swaine." She picked up snowballs of her own and lobbed one into the crowd of her friends. It splatted against Oliver's neck and Drippy took residual damage. "I think I finally got it."

\/\/\/

Well, that's it. I hope it didn't appear anti-climatic. I thought it would be too cliché if Esther's mom showed up after everything, and wanted the dream sequence sort of to tie in at the end when Esther regained her sense of self. Dunno if that came across clearly at all, but if it didn't, I apologize.

Thanks to all those who read and reviewed and please let me know what you think (gently, please. Being rude is just rude after all lol. And flames will be printed out, cut up, and turned into a jolly good kite to fly and intentionally lose and watch it get eaten by Charlie Brown's evil kite eating evil tree.)

See you all around!

ML


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